seven

PRETTY damn weird that I wrote this seven years ago today, especially when you read my previous post:

dripping down the side of my saddle

i really should have taken the opportunity last night to write in diaryland. i would have come up with some pretty heavy, emo, joe castor's political song type of stuff.

instead i let the fluids run out of me.

i wonder why i ache and nash and burn and cough and swear i'll get every last drop of fluid out of my body.

shall i just be a skeleton? will we ever recognize our friends by their bones? or will we just flash our teeth and gasp a collective "ah!" i know who you are now, friend. let me crawl inside your skin. (but the sad fact is that you can't because it's now a lampshade with freckles.)

12:07 a.m. - 2006-09-28