oh, i could die.
can i tell you what i want for a minute?
i want to move to the city (new york, that is) and move into a tiny apartment with my love and stare aimlessly at the stars whenever possible. i want to walk around in black underwear and a braless t-shirt and tangle my legs with his as frequent as possible. i want to live off of coffee, tea and water and i want to be able to beat the daily crossword daily! i want music always playing and i want to dance while i cook dinner and wash dishes and do laundry. i don't want a closet but only garmet racks of clothing and a box full of shoes. i want my windows to be open seventy percent of the year letting the city's busy street noises and the clinks and clanks from the dishes of the no-name diner below my loft to ring me into my mornings. i want to know my neighbors and undress myself in front of the city's windows. and when i need a break from my cement surroundings, i want to pack up for my love & i and live out of the car for a few months and see the entire country. and then take it overseas! our traveling, that is; not the car. i want to sell my car! i want to bike ride in every state and as many countries as i can! i want to fight and yell and scream and dance and sing and laugh and kiss and touch and caress his hair as he blows kisses to my nose, my forehead. i want to make love in the bare, nighttime woods i want every breath i take to be infatuated with my love. i want to write and edit and rewrite and erase. i never want to not have a story to tell, a smile to give, or a laugh to break. i want absolute peace.
i want to move to the city (new york, that is) and move into a tiny apartment with my love and stare aimlessly at the stars whenever possible. i want to walk around in black underwear and a braless t-shirt and tangle my legs with his as frequent as possible. i want to live off of coffee, tea and water and i want to be able to beat the daily crossword daily! i want music always playing and i want to dance while i cook dinner and wash dishes and do laundry. i don't want a closet but only garmet racks of clothing and a box full of shoes. i want my windows to be open seventy percent of the year letting the city's busy street noises and the clinks and clanks from the dishes of the no-name diner below my loft to ring me into my mornings. i want to know my neighbors and undress myself in front of the city's windows. and when i need a break from my cement surroundings, i want to pack up for my love & i and live out of the car for a few months and see the entire country. and then take it overseas! our traveling, that is; not the car. i want to sell my car! i want to bike ride in every state and as many countries as i can! i want to fight and yell and scream and dance and sing and laugh and kiss and touch and caress his hair as he blows kisses to my nose, my forehead. i want to make love in the bare, nighttime woods i want every breath i take to be infatuated with my love. i want to write and edit and rewrite and erase. i never want to not have a story to tell, a smile to give, or a laugh to break. i want absolute peace.