inside_a_rotting_pine skinny i am infinite, or i am alone. a universal truth or parasite. in a field of pink winter grass my eyes stretch like thread through my surroundings. this is a testament to breathing, it is all i'll ever be so please don't lie and say we're something more. 050204 ... skinny i must go outside to die, will you please let go of my arm so i can lay in the grass with a plastic bag placed over my head, i am so sick of this place, ebony manicans and empty gray photo parlours that reek of dust and dying fashion. you are so persistant. you are so humorless. if i could sleep with you inside a rotting pine i would sleep the deepest. but my heaven has no context, you're like a tear in my horrible perfection. oh if i could shed you like rust and leave you standing in the weather, you said it felt good outside that evening before we said goodbye. 050204 ... . . 050430 ... sab inside a rotting pine is history decaying is the solid proof of real events rotting away loosing history loosing the stories the past breaking down breaking back into dirt from dirt we came and to dirt we return a little bit of history, repeating... 050501 ... . . 050506 what's it to you? who go blather from