|2003-12-10 - 1:34 p.m.
is it ok to love the part of you making words and spaces between words. self-loathing and loving and walking through landscapes of passionate pity and intellectualized seductions maybe only existing in the timeline between sleep and awake. your language like oil paintings that just won't dry i can just barely see which color came last smeared first. lonliness drowning out images of early morning adoration. i am almost more addicted to the leaving than the coming, all explosive in their own right. defiant to awake some hidden greatness i carry like codes over espionage lines i long to deliver to you.