

i was out the window countingi was out the window coutning the ants that crawled on the roof outside my window onetwothreefourfive but it seemed to me so futile after the first six or so (i was smoking a cigarette and there was no hand to hold and thoughts of you camei was out the window counting
up (like the smoke) and i didn't want to count anymore)
i remember the look in your eyes when i told
you deep and dark secrets and realized at that moment
that you never had much of any look in your eyes at all;
i jam the cigarette on top of an ant crushing and burning its
little body and i think what if


The ChillA strange evening can be many things. It can be a simple follow up to a lazy summer afternoon, where the heat crawls across your skin almost as slow as the time passes by. It can be an experience both scary and exciting, an eye opener of tremendous proportions. It may not even seem so strange until hours, until days, months, years afterwards. It could be something that slides by you or through you quickly, leaving you too cold or too hot as the morning hours bring the sun closer to your window. I guess mine was a bit of all of those things, give or take a little.The Chill
It started with a party. I’d arrived unfashionabl


Me and MeAll we’ve got now is this biting cold And I have to admit it’s starting to get old My head pounds and my body aches As I silently recount almost countless mistakes But I realize suddenly that there is no we That it’s always been just me and meMe and Me


Untitled 2And I will spend days in bed fighting a persavive loneliness and an irritating sobriety hugging the pillow and trying to embrace my imperfections attemtping some comfortUntitled 2
in my skin
Listening to sad songs and catching my breath and coursing through unclean and unhealthy
thoughts
And wishing I could stop running towards something that
doesn't exist
--
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