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My sheets are dusty with the smell of my own sweet sweat
I can't sleep anymore.
It's this house.  There are squirrels living my attic.
They are so loud
they must be building a Motel
or trying to bust in through my ceiling.

gums bleeding from neglect
the opiate-like pleasure of romantic fixation

off tone. key.

"...and sex, the ultimate charade of safety."


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Isn't it funny how we just keep looking older?

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September 2, 2008
Silverware in my purse
                      I am a true child
                                of the Road