"when you speak, do you say what you mean?" i wish - more than most things - that i had the ability to articulate my most honest feelings. still, i feel that watching a boy, walking his dogs, speaking sweetly to his girlfriend, or the night-moths that float around the grass in my front yard are more beautiful than anything i could ever say.

just in case you were wondering, mon petit pois, i still feel the same way i have since the beginning of this year. mais je manque votre rire. the real laugh when you'd close your eyes and shake back and forth without making a sound.

i can hear you, but i can't see you, perry.

last night i had a dream that a lady i don’t know was raking the leafless mauve rug in her dining room. there was nothing else in the room besides the carpet and the hardwood floor underneath. time moved quickly; the two windows on the far side of the room changed from dawn until dusk over and over again in a matter of seconds. she seemed to rake ( Read more... )

trying to tell you how i feel is useless; no real words come out. every sentence tastes like vinegar and milk in my mouth.

you're just too sweet.

it was only the beginning of october but it was cold outside and the only thing i could think of to feel some movement was jump naked into the pool on the top of the radisson hotel downtown with two friends. and i did feel really alive that night. afterwards we sat with our legs dangling over the edge of the building and just watched the city ( Read more... )

so, i was sort of persuaded into joining a co-ed intermural soccer team. the posi panthers. the first game is tomorrow and i'm excited to play. wish me lots of luck though, i'm going to need it.

the sun is about to come up and i'm awake in a room full of my sleeping best friends, one of whom is snoring, but i'm pretty sure not many feelings can top the one i've got right now. it's so quiet, but there is an energy in this silence that keeps me feeling restless at five in the morning and i love it. nothing is louder than noiselessness ( Read more... )

used to be one of the rotten ones and he liked you for that. now you're all gone, got your make-up on and you're not coming back.

park that car.
drop that phone.
sleep on the floor.
dream about me.

yesterday, i reazlied that everywhere i go, in every situation, i'm always thinking about how i can turn it into a story or writing. this is something i do every day of my life and have for as long as i can remember. a few months ago, i received a letter from a friend - who is happy most of the time, or at least always seems to be - and in it he ( Read more... )

sometimes there is a passion in the way i miss certain things. it sort of becomes an overwhelming hobby, like a bibliophile who masturbates with his books or a painter who kisses his canvas. the kind of miss that fills your whole body up. right now, i really miss a few friendships. i miss the familiar roads of up north and sleeping in my favorite ( Read more... )