Sunday, 26 July 2015
Saturday, 25 July 2015
Letter from Steve, 1990
I never got a chance to finish reading the letter you sent me, but I think I got the general overall idea from the first couple paragraphs. I can appreciate the fact that you worry about me - it really doesn't bother me that much, because I guess I expect it. I have been kind of wild, but I think I'm starting to burn out a bit now. My brain is feeling really spacey from doing a lot of harmful things to do it. And I like being on top of things, so I'm going to have to lay off for a little bit. Don't worry - I'll be all right. I really will. I guess I just have to find out certain things for myself - the school of hard knocks never goes out of session for some of us.
It was really good seeing you. I know I look burned out, but you look really healthy. Have you gained a little weight? Not that you're fat, but you look more full - I don't know, even that sounds bad. You know what I mean.
Friday, 24 July 2015
Notebook, 1994
First day of school, but I didn't have any classes. Tomorrow is my first day.
It's the peace, girl,
it is the stretching of boundaries of
spatial time.
It is the nightmare you expected
and it will save your life.
It's the peace, girl,
it is the stretching of boundaries of
spatial time.
It is the nightmare you expected
and it will save your life.
Thursday, 23 July 2015
Wednesday, 22 July 2015
Reality
She slips and she slips and
she slips again.
She slips up the stairway,
down the elevator,
she brings the keys with her, because
she knows where they will
release her.
But she isn't singing love songs
anymore.
She is waiting for you, you know.
She waits with the patience of a
hungry child.
She knows where those keys
are going, she knows
how to turn them.
But the lock is in an
ocean with a name no one
can remember, a name someone
forgot to give.
Without a name an ocean is
nothing more than an endless pool
staring up at the sky.
Nothing more than water we cannot
even drink.
She is not singing love songs
anymore.
You should hear her, you know,
you should hear her silence your
half of her whole.
This is not her world--
still starving inside for you,
she waits only to slip on home.
she slips again.
She slips up the stairway,
down the elevator,
she brings the keys with her, because
she knows where they will
release her.
But she isn't singing love songs
anymore.
She is waiting for you, you know.
She waits with the patience of a
hungry child.
She knows where those keys
are going, she knows
how to turn them.
But the lock is in an
ocean with a name no one
can remember, a name someone
forgot to give.
Without a name an ocean is
nothing more than an endless pool
staring up at the sky.
Nothing more than water we cannot
even drink.
She is not singing love songs
anymore.
You should hear her, you know,
you should hear her silence your
half of her whole.
This is not her world--
still starving inside for you,
she waits only to slip on home.
Tuesday, 21 July 2015
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