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I’m not even sure where to put the words anymore. Or at least how to put them wherever it is that they choose fit. It’s not that I can’t, or that I don’t want to, it’s just that they’ve become such a redundant circular motion that it almost seems pointless to crack knuckles before bringing down the tips of ridges that give us our sought after lust

Comments

[17seconds_]

omg joshua
you're wayyyy too smart for me
i didn't even understand half of your entry
way too many big words and deep meanings.
you're so intense.
you should, like, be a writer or something.
by the way it's 5 am and im awake
and super stoned!!!!!!!
haha, it's sad, really.
i love you.

♥

Defiling my own intergrity.

[verbose_]

Josh, if you could only understand how much I can relate; pealing down an alley way full of narcotics and haste. Maybe, just maybe, if I give myself away I won't have to remember how much I don't make in a world of blacks and greys (let me hide my own hues). Progression is short lived when nothing really quite adds up, when the quadratics short to zero.

I don't work until quarter to 12 on Saturday, maybe you drag your pretty bum down here and drink some gin at my place and lament over our oh so dramatic sensitive artist lives. We can even smoke some cancer. So, please, give me a call, I'd love to hear from ya.