this is horrible, but thank god i can write here.
11:27 pm / Monday, Mar. 26, 2007

These are the best days of our lives
we sit smoking the last of our
feelings thrown into
the wind that engulf us here.
The world
my skin
is peach
the promise of spring.
the prmise of something better
better than today
the wind
come blow this away
blow the black out of my hair
blow the black from my heart
so the wind beats
heady against my heart
this pain this hurt this this this

this word. I'm stuck. I'm stuck on this word.

This world. this pain.
Do i need this anymore
can't I let go of the need for
I need this attachment.
attachment to you.
to the wind
that blows it away.

blow the black out of my hair.
blow the black out of my heart.
blow. blow blow.

last _ next