plus sign oh no where an exclamation point would be

i see you everywhere. Even when i see you evil, I share things. With you the evil point across blue tacks and red tacks. I told one would be other hands in other hands. She sees it but doesn't speak it loud, some sunrise prior hollers in word form or music form. I trust this. She would never say in, so I'll have to know it. In the eyes she'll speak it in parting glances. Could've had you in less facts.

Could have made you love.

Thinking of all wandering of the mindhands,
thinking of all living in the undercircumstance:
it's you who are where we should be,
INDIVIDUALS,
it's you who are what we are.

It is so cold.

Things are better but they are not better. Appear better I should say, but I feel the same. Doesn't matter what she says in eyes in action or in voice, matters what I feel in life, in heart, in overgrown. What I'm thinking is waiting out what's happening here. She wants things comfortable with that job here (aqui) with that intermittent long-distance there, with that hot rod travelcase. Me, I want that longtime freedom, that silent four-wall breathroom, that sadmusic sadsong sadliving sadthinking ohbaby I miss you you are what I thought I could be! love affair. Ah but she stopped it without my chance to make it obvious. Ah I lost it without my chance to dip apart.

Zig when I
should have
zagged.

Population count ticking down in a timescale. Living through big experience, I'm not ready for what it would be for our arrival. Silence among arms and mouthwordkiss. I have nothing to say to you that is not friction, and I don't care if I feel nothing. I'd say wait for me, but I've already said wait for me. I didn't wait. I let that come and go. I'll have to start from bottom up, from grasp and go, from got me don't got me.

I lied to you,
and it was convenient.
I've showed you us in little becomings,
and i never meant it to be what it is now (ahora).

You come and leave and come and leave.
We touch for touching sake.
[removed]
But I doubt that it's you.

It's always you.
Old age, new age.

And there's a proximity love, a fire i can't ignore to the touch and to the hold; to the hear and to the say. it's from some source I never saw until I saw in her love and element, from some source I never saw until her origin. I'd tell her but it's an unsure thing and I've got no cure for the cowardly. I find her in mindplay, and I plan to make me know her more. Words she loves sounds she loves. And also. More for what she hates.
-

"Yesss, spanish soap operas are amazing for what I love to do. Find the right crew, ripe for dialogue. Free movie production. If u know nothing u say anything."

posit.

wandergone.

She was there!
In the mirror, I loved her, behind me arm over my right shoulder. She was my bride the one I could feel in the summer life, the one through storms and quiet conversations. I loved her and she left.

I don't know where they are and they were my life. No sight and little sound, we live the life as they do in France, small and unknown ones but not far far from celebrity.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

this! this epiphone!

Let's give it a go.

I've disappointed everyoe I've loved. No way don't stop me. Robot voices and not reall. I say what's written in books. You don't even know. It's too cold to feel all that we want to feel, distracted by nothing other than the body shaking. She wants to feel but doesn't feel, she wants to sing and sing and sing and sing.

HE DIGS AND DIGS AND DIGS.

There are friends of mine that still turn up Lil Wayne.

This is what I'm saying!
I'd live with you if it weren't for living!

There's no way to leave fast enough so I separate myself faster than actually possible. Where those thay speak 631 shout 631 I shout PORTUGAL AND FRANCE AND ENGLAND. -- by ship

they say bring a lot of weed because they know what I say is what I say AND I SAY IT LOUD!

There are no peers who know me and they see me as that kid. Some boy, some weirdo.

It's not so bad, it's not so bad.

I stay with her when she still hurts me
She still hurts me!

I need to be alone but she fit herself in the cracls, in the small places of my ego/self esteem/my life. She wants to stay going forward. Ohhh no.

Ohh no.

I'm still hurting.
It's that bad, it's that bad.

I'm lying to me.






What do I have to do?

ombrigo.

I have lost the appreciation for life and living. No particular distaste for it. I'm glad I exist, though that's all I've been making my days up of. The kind of thing we grow old to the sound of:

"
You know, same old.
Work, home, eat, sleep, repeat.
"

Since when?

I blame it almost entirely on the lack of music and alcohol, though alcohol plays much less of a role. It's the enhancement of different memories and the recall thereof that it really affects. Some writing, little finger singing.

[sweet, the driver lights her cigarette first with the console flame]

I'm not being stopped or held back by anything. Even by credit debt, or a lack of cash, or anything financial. I think it's that I have no idea where to go from here. Is it that I have no oath now? Just going to grow static on this gamestop paycheck? Really get invested in it? Dug in? No more Arizona, no more sunsets against clay? No more filling in the check boxes? I did lose that list, and I've forgotten most of it.

I think of downing bags of pills, each white and smooth like plastic furniture. They highlight all the senses and stimulate a new mechanical organ inside, puffing out the dust of atrophy. Breathing in a blue gray smoke elevating from some burning stick to mute out the entropy. Shoved syringes to the hilt full of the brown and the clear to rearrange the eyereception earreception. There would be no terror no loss of control no bending or electron pivot shaking. Just a lusting for vocabulary and words, a refresher for what's not to come and what's to be dead and what's to be born. Some calling no longer distant to what's been put to rest for years. Going everywhere again. Starting where it doesn't count, ending where no one cares.

I hate to say that I am a weird kid, an odd person or that sort of thing. But I do trace back a great deal of the lack of former luminescence to working with an all male staff, male to the degree of being vacant of any vibrancy or color outside of drinking stories the color of green glass, or bright red stories of women, lust, and the positions beyond positions and positing they find themselves in. Then, as always, the video games and the time they've spent with them. There is no one thirsty, hungry or pained like me. There is no one seeking, searching, or wandering like me. There are young men patient and comfortable. Existing with no need for improvement.

-

Facing the snow in manhattan, just for forty five seconds or so. Felt the need for it. Some odd craving to live. Reminded me of where she is where she could be and less importantly where she has been. I don't guess, or assume. I'm not sure if it's better or worse that I know she's out there.

Send me letters, impartial or complete.
Page, line, or word.

-

laughing hysterically, hard and genuine, I say, "yeah man, I'm really hitting bottom."

Jeff tells me to listen to Colors.