i am no ben gibbard.

i was just thinking about you this morning.

http://showmeyourskeleton.tumblr.com/
i like this better.

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i don't care how you feel about me,
i know we're not on the same level
but gosh, i know i'll miss you.

the icey whisper wind, cold like old teeth,
the peppering perspiration of flick'd percipertation,
the hush blanket of the night, where underneath we're all out of focus.

let's just hide away,
for the heat will kill us all.

i have so many ideas swimming in my head, thick like cooling condensed soup.
musical ideas - guitar ideas, drum ideas, piano ideas, electronic ideas.
writing ideas.
drawing ideas (though that light's snuffing itself out).
photographic ideas.

nothing ever seems to get done and so i wonder, is that because i can't do any of them?

i guess you hate me.

moreso, i mean.

i am a hollowed out bone, revolving.

two questions -
what am i doing?
what have i done?

zero answers -