| today i watched meghan drift through town in her car. she drives too
fast most times, and i worry about her. she bought a pound of dark
chocolate at target and wore her sunglasses in the store. i wish i knew
what she was thinking, or what to tell her. i followed her as she
walked her dog in the afternoon. she carried a red balloon, and as it
trailed behind her in the breeze, i could have sworn i saw her soul,
screaming from within its cheerful confines. if that balloon had been
present all along, i must have missed it. i wonder if she's aware.
she's been awake for days. the second hand managed a life of its own;
it's a pity meghan's captivated by the drama. she's been listening to
the cream of clapton and
zeppelin's early days on a loop. she's envious of the eighth notes
floating
through the air, living and breathing so freely. if you can find music
in her blank expressions, play it backwards. i think we'd all like to
know what it says. |
| |
| happiness is not having to lie on the floor dead alone.
|
| |
| the dude abides.
shut the FUCK up donnie.
|
| |
| a late night with a newfound friend is just what i need.
why does happiness have an age limit?
"i'm losing a minute of sleep a night, and there are yellow jackets living in my wall."
|
| |
| I can't believe this. I've got a trig mid term tomorrow and I'm being chased by Guido the killer pimp.
|
| |
