August 11, 2005 - 5:18 p.m.
lay a whisper on my pillow
and then set it to nuke.
i'm so out of fresh thoughts
as the same ones keep bumping against my cerebellum
her freckles and the dimple that I imagine she has
the pattern of reckless commitment
the paint and how it makes me want to eat it
so beautifully it spreads itself
the plethora of reactions
the word bevvy
angry with myself for being blindsided by her flattery
angry with her for being able to
the aloof way you pretend not to know what you're doing
the anaesthesia I feel about all these red feelings
jealous, arsenic green, of you both
her for presuming to know you
you for letting her think she could
over` the fact that the person in power is literally "the man"
overwhelmed that I've let this all get to me
done
feeling sorry, shy, confused, bitter
I need more nothing and less nothing
eating food fresh and guiltless
painting red on any surface
looking at the real reason
I care
at all
so much
no more
still
just thinking about it
