moon eyes, rain waves on puddles

2002-12-19, 1:21 p.m.

nothing left is a good thing when it was less than what i wanted

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and rain drops are making me drop mind pieces, little crumbs that land on the screen, moist and spreading. poof and bang. dont want to go outside really because wet is inviting but nothing is appetizing. this blanket is playing the metaphor. the plastic is what made me feel this way. the plastic walls and plastic smiles with plastic lips. plastic gloves i wear to type. bah and humbug, i dont even know what this writing will do to me, i dont even know what the lines will mean. the way that it doesnt matter how things are spelled or what order. boom and bang this is comedy i say, making moments into fits of writing and always looking for something to make people smile or sigh or scream or laugh or so many other exclaimable emotions.

twisty trees with blackened bark

firestorm of water, dripping leaves

shuttering red light, faulty slide in a projector

so many things outside this window,

little universe in my head, swirling quarks and photons

no more to write because even this isnt helping the ugh i feel, no food for my eyes no espresso eyes to blush when im here alone...