2003-11-07 / 1:27 p.m.

i don't mean to make my entries all so circular and unclear that's just how my mind works especially now now when there's the stench of sterility and sick people and the fear of being lost and running out of gas and my head exploding from self imposed self involved pressure and i didn't mean home home but just home where my bookshelves are and people with very familiar last names and bright purple fish not home where i write on the walls and feel security like a drug fog that i love and not home like where i keep my clothes and my pillows but can't breathe right now and maybe not ever again

i just can't help it

i can't give you what you don't ask for you know and i can't read your mind and i can't stand this i can't do it cause i can't see around my tear ducts

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