ruin mon the wool will rot in a hundred years the paint will yellow and crack what will become of the old goat shed will anyone play my fiddle? 031216 ... mon arrived at the door with an old photograph this the farm old log house torn down the rocks remain planted thyme where their garden grew felt like a garden should be there the fruit packing shed barely talks squirrels in the willow above it was once a busy room where juice was wrung with hands working now it is crowded clogged discarded unused old drying rack the tractor was a beauty in its day 031216 ... spoons my EE final... *hangs head* 031217 ... belly fire I come here each day in hopes of a reunion; instead finding only the stuff of ruin. reunion...r_u_i_n. 070215 ... crOwl of what i am in. 070215 ... prue I considered speaking to someone about my thoughts wondered: how much would it cost me? literally. 070411 ... belly fire No, I could not possibly forgive all that... but understand that I exist in a limbo where both the absence and presence of you are equally intolerable (one of those can't live with her can't live without her ironies), and, therefore, understand that I am only a ruin of Sam, partial and eroded, so that you may live with a portion of the guilt for remaining silent when you knew it would only devastate me. You, who knew my weaknesses, and tore me apart with them. 070422 ... birdmad morning walk before getting to work took a path i'd not taken in a while since i don't live right by the office anymore the eastern half of the steelyard is bare and the old abandoned school buildings that sat next to it have been demolished and scraped away, no frame, no foundation, no errant pipe fragments protruding from the ground i liked the sight of it better when it was a decaying, foreboding ruin overrun with dead grass and live weeds now, it seems more forlorn in its comparative sterility 070423 ... raze this is why i shouldn't be trusted with anything. it all turns to shit in the end, and even the best intentions die screaming with their eyes wide open. 221111 what's it to you? who go blather from