August 23, 2003 - 10:27 p.m.
i enter into this house, empty, but for the smell of you, walking
through all the places you live, angry at the wanting...
i run my eyes across every surface paper lays, hoping that i will find one in your hand.
i check your toothbrush to see if it is still wet... the only way i will feel you now, when no notes have been left and this pain in my belly, razors in my throat and tears in my hand are all i have to hold, tangibly... my body becomes legendary, in the urban sense, as i cut myself to threads, bleeding through my head, holding the fabric we stained by stretching the sheets of our bed around walls, between words, over our heads until... helpless, we realized all we could do was not sleep. and so, we sleep. i remind myself to shut the internet access off. because i know you hate it when i leave it on.
