birdmad are really, at times, vast and desolate 040903
tessa I like the small ones. Daylight time just seems so epic 040904
mourninglight where they slip by as beads falling from their thread.

where the sun reflects off of leaves greener than they have been all summer, and off of a head of white hair..
coping with life
not dying

sun through the building storm clouds, and reflections cutting into the wall of grey.
pete the hours of my postwork activity and inability to sleep. i saw her tonight, she was either drunk or stoned or both, and i was within 20 minutes of finishing an 11 hour shift so i didn't stop to talk. 040904
pete i wish someone other than me was up in the small hours, they can get lonely with no ne to talk to *sighs* 040904
witchesrequiem He said,
I just want to lay here with you for a while...
I threw 5 journals at him.... here is laying with me...years past...
what is one night 4 later?
mind fuck...!
j why do i feel so small in the big ones?
i like the defined, the pointed,
the place where the hour is gone but
somehow acute.
it twists in the shape of a pin.
i am lost today.
am i lost all days?
you two look like a picture
standing there together
and i am on the outside, my hands
stroking the vastness of outside
sometimes too tired
to try to get in.
f I'm in stitches...i find it so funny that i am back on this site again.
what is it that makes me return.
i never talk to anyone on here - just myself - how sad. hopefully i won't be back again but i can't be so sure of that.
Days go by .. ...

one day i will be in the sunshine with no worries - just the simple life i long for.

why does it take so much to want so liitle?
Piso Mojado it's midnight when you finally return his call, figuring from the messages he left on your voice mail that he'll be passed out by this point. instead he invites you over to the "little get together" at his place. "But youve been drinking" you say. And he says no no, im fine its cool, ill be there in 20.

So you put on shoes and walk outside to the loop by freshman housing. he's outside his car, friendly, and you think "this is going to be a good evening"

but then he starts to drive and he swirves over and over and you grip the door-handle and pray.

he manages to get to his house, driving on the left side of the road, without crashing. you gladly accept the beer he offers. and dance the little dont-touch me-dance as he tries to drunkenly rest his head on your shoulder or sit close to you during Monty Python.

you gladly accept a ride home from the sleepy roomate. and return to the familiar florescent lighting of the_small_hours in front of your laptop.

you hate college.
a thimble in time fuck you write well 041016
a thimble in time fuck you write well 041016
a thimble in time Fuck you write well. 041016
Piso Mojado thanks. although i dont write as fucking well as you do 041017
Piso Mojado I WAKE and feel the fell of dark, not day.
What hours, O what black hoürs we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.

With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.

gerard manley hopkins
"The" Man Forty minutes, fifty at best. 070710
what's it to you?
who go