Proof that I have swallowed my heart: my stomach is ticking. I lay in the bath, a ticking time bomb hiding in the groundwater. Lather is my armour and I slip out of the bath without rinsing. The door is open and my body parts rise to meet the cold - goose pimples, hardened nipples. Fog dissipates and the mirror summons me to nitpick my soapy ( Read more... )

EJ called today (in that nectarine voice she has) about starting up the photography collective. Can't wait! The poor bunnie was just robbed and her brand-spanking-new digi was stolen. But she still laughs!! GOSH, I adore her ( Read more... )

Pull up a chair
Don't be scared
'Cause I don't bite
When I don't care.

But even if I did, Baby.
What'cha gonna do?

10 steps over the line. Have I gone too far? I am still thinking about turning back. NO, that would be cowardice.

ZOMBIES. 'tck 'tck pew...oo oooo.

Applying the first tenet of procrastination to everything in the broadest sense: Nothing Before Its Time.

Mere breathing can violate one's insides.
Make one want to carve oneself from polished marble,
And drink a bottle of hydrochloric acid.

Miss you like the dickens.

Hey zombies -- get out of my dreams,

...and into my bed.

David is on a highway to hell. Must be why this whole experiment has swallowed my legs like quicksand. But I still have my arms! I will knit a woolen scarf to pull over their eyes. And like it.

Mama's face is expressionless, like a sphinx. And I have yet to read the verdict.

Words conceive. Words deceive.

I am auditioning for this play, "21 Rants About Working in a Drugstore". Send me good vibrations, kittens. I desire this role! Oh, what I wouldn't give for a cheap bottle of wine, a clean shirt, a role in that play and that cute boy to think I'm worth a damn ( Read more... )