tasting traffic

i can't come down anymore. there are peaches on the table and there is no sunrise for hours. this could have been my last day. all the faces in my head bleed in and out of each other and they don't know how to get back home. they don't know how to get out of me. if i knew that i was this messed up i would have stopped myself from walking to that bedroom where the men and women dress each other like the figures on the canvas and they never find the time to trace the world over their own bodies. they only force their way over it so that it seems familiar and then they will not be afraid. it's the same for me. that's what i have done. my ghost is the only other person tonight next to me. the ghost is stronger than i remember but just as ugly as the last time.

we have hearts, yes we do and we just don't know where they will take us. we just don't know.

sounding like a cello

you said this isn't what you wanted so we walked into the theater and waited. i watched the people in the back row laughing. on the walls the paintings were scattered just so you always had to keep looking around. i saw everything had so little space to breathe. i am so dramatic some days. i am so dramatic most days.

i like to talk about the moon eclipsing and the paper hats that I made back when I was too small to reach the table without being lifted.

i am stuck inside of my own head and i don't know how i could feel before now when now seems like the only time to feel.