the great melodrama of anything. There is nothing. I can't feel anything anymore, there is no way out. 000114
amy adaisacal 000114
hymie steinberg tating breasts 001021
barnaclebill Yer milkin it there Hymie! Har HAR HAARRR! 001030
skalix what i have! =D 040606
ofsuch that which you think you lack
once you have
you may find you would like to lack again
Syrope it would have been too difficult for you to say what you knew i needed to hear, i suppose, when i needed it

and here i am, awake
misstree i think too much of pretty things, and
i feel ugly in comparison.

i am perhaps too honest on the dating_site;
the comparisons by their well-calibrated personality tests
are far from flattering.
violent, dishonest, unloving,
but there is more to me?
a little voice pleads.

i am tangled in
isnots and
forget sometimes
what is but
what is
making soup from the bones
because the fresh meat
has dried up.

winter's set in.
this spring is set to be
like nothing else,
i reckon.
i hope.
anno_salutis Sitting in bed, we stir or cough, or shift.
A program on the television discusses
geologic changes. Earth rising,
in heat and pressure,
scraping empty the sides of the vessel
that, slightly harder, carries it.
On my tablet computer
I tap on things that promise
me some fleeting connection
to a world that once seemed tangible -
one video promises warm feelings
another laughter. And I click
and why not click, a tap vain junkie.
Tomorrow we will spread sheets;
the steam will leave the shower.
The hour will grow frenzied
as we leave the house
to become the people
we watch when weíre free.
what's it to you?
who go