magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

can . . . forth . . . happy . . . thinks . . . suddenly

there aren't enough colours in the alphabet to paint...
    everything you make me feel
    yr eyes

* *

on the train into ny i had the strangest memory. i'm lying down on concrete i think, using harlot's ghost as a pillow. the memory's in ca, but i didn't own the book yet. if anywhere it must have been the x-country trip by bus, but where?

* *

graeme's party.

and once again i find myself in this familiar state of mind.

there is an electricity flowing across my skin and a complete exhaustion from within.

i can't keep my eyes open, but i want to. but maybe if i close them, i'll be able to see.

* *

when i close my eyes electricity plays across my skin.

when she got up, i felt a pull, a separation, a feeling that i had been almost whole, however briefly, and was no longer.

it scares me to think i can still feel this way, and over something so inconsequential, something that is only a brief instant in my life, and will be gone before i realize it.

i am a prisoner of my personality.

and now that the world is falling asleep, i find myself awake.

    ...everything i've felt tonight.

* *

the sun rises in the city
among dark clouds that hid
the stars all night
blues + greys hints of pink + orange

from the tips of my toes you explode forth-my mirror image.

* *

the next morning.

i can never sleep really late because there is so much inside me, and yet i often find myself bored. where does it all go between opening blurred eyes and the day ahead?

maybe the stars in my shoe know something. i wonder if i should ask them.

in the morning, her hair's not as blond. and that really sums things up in a way.

* *

and ultimately, his actions proved easier than expected, but less satisfying as well. this is not a complaint exactly, it beat the alternatives. no contest.