When you go your gone. There is nothing to say or think or conjure or stew.
Floors turn into grids that moons evaluate. I am here too. Re-volving.
I talked to you yesterday about how there are things i wanted to talk to you about. dreamt me into believing that there are possibilites, order, functions that are necessities to be discussed. So i dont want to. I want to make you not dead, to stand in front of me and tell me to fuck off and that its ok, and that i am of worth.I am seeing the car, over the hill from the airport. there was fog. there was music something playing and it was all horrible. rooms were filled with short breaths and i was too scared to tell you anything. or ask. i was always ok.
i have courage sometimes. i laugh, i take advantage of my heredity and i am on the phone alot
i count to 4 or 5 when i am looking busy. its a tick. something you used to make me do.
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