i'm tired, sooooo tired. when i scratch my head, things don't change. b/c it's a velvet underground song that pops up. go figure. and death cab likes to beat out the rhythm of wheels spinning rotations on the road away from here. leaves are already sunburned in mid-april. the magnolia tree is burning from the inside out. and fingertip prints are heated away until there is no identification.
come on and baby, let the good times roll. slinky, silky, sleek, moisture driven, walking body. imprint invisibly.
i told cristina we should start a club called project adventure. the name is supposed to be ironic in a city sort of way. i want to videotape our pizza party.
i am climbing out of pools of water, out of the pool of beginnings and endings. and the sun creates heat waves that swagger in the distance and everything is overexposed to sensitive eyes placed inside bronzed skin. i squinch up my eyes and feel that it's not the sun that burns me, but the tears salty as they slip upon my tongue through opened lips.
and restless dreams i walked alone.
currently spinning: simon and garfunkel: sound of silence