i saw an airplane in the sky and pretended you were inside looking down at me. the sky was so blue and no clouds concealed the view and then the plane disappeared and i could not see it anymore, but i smiled anyway.
dried leaves and shoegazers and my bright eyes and you.
i saw a pigeon taking a bath in a puddle. its feathers puffed out in a ball of gray and white. he saw me looking at him and paused and i paused and then turned back to my book.
banana splits and a photobooth. we held hands in paper caves and kissed in tents. paint dripping down towards neurons and hearts and repeating concentric circles. curled up with audrey and champagne or under trees near our creek by the bridge. i saw a tree that had been struck by lightning, raw and jagged, but orange fungus grew upon it. nick held me up. when i touched the spongeyness of it the color darkened and i screamed.
assacre = awesome as always
kerry = whipping bush's ass as always.
laissez les bon temps rouler. perhaps montreal is the place for me.
i want to fly on an airplane again and look at the clouds and the rivers and the snow and the ocean below. see andy goldworthy.
i made something pretty to glow at night when i cannot sleep. inside it holds the moon and a thousand birds.