(no subject)
It;s 2:17 am and I want to make sure the asian girl in the next apartment knows that no, I'm not happy and I'm not sad. I'll let her knock on my door and squint her brown oval eyes into the cracks of the door hollering hoorahs that she has to work early in the morning and can I please turn that shit down? But no, no, I can't do that. The phantom buzzer keeps blasting me upright off the ground from root to stem to tip where i'm laying. I've been reading secret stories of the morticians son under the covers all evening and wondering what he has been up to. His dad the poet said that as long as you have writers block then you know you're still a writer. There's something wrong with the fish in our fishtank because he only swims upside down on his belly now and he struggles constantly stuck in weird vertigo.theres something wrong with the girls in this house because I've taken up donning lace tights and t'shirts to bed and my girl in the next room is sleepwalking through the livingroom more than ever whenever i'm up late watching movies. But at the moment i'm spinng 45's to an obsolete audience and sucking the last sweet drops of teenage nectar from a box of wine. are you still there?
oh
or have youuuu....
moved away?
ohhhh have you moooooved away?
oh
or have youuuu....
moved away?
ohhhh have you moooooved away?