cops will knock on your door at 2 am

2004-07-26, 2:36 a.m.

today i sat in a yard full of overgrown dandelions, sprouting with old age, feathery plumes of gray hair. the stalks of green shot upward with a serpants crooked spine, and the bugs on the ground were moving freckles on a face of dirt.

could you imagine the foamy residue of red from a stoplight in the fog? even though it reminds me of two years ago, i have to think its the same glow from the same light; but i am different somehow. i couldnt hold in my head the kinds of thoughts i have now, and i could not learn to keep myself quiet from the echoes of self loathing. now, its much more peaceful, in a chaotic sort of way, because i expected it all to feel like scrambled eggs and sweaty pores.

my dog still has the piercing stare, blue and brown eyes that are soaking in the information around my face so that her dreams of rabbits and reconditioned pillows will be more solid for the senses. yes, the bugs still flitter into the computer screen in a frenzied attempt to find solace in the flourescent screen i am staring at. tat tap taptap it looks like this long-legged bug is busy with a morse code message ---_--_------_--___--_---

and what do i want from all of the dreams? i need to know the zenith of human emotion is attainable, maybe in a selfish way... i want it to myself. that is scary -so many things are scary but i never really know why- to live with, because you are one in six billion, and she is every other person who ever lived, so you cant compare hearts when yours barely keeps a beat and hers is the fulcrum of an entire population; the one to which i ask to join..