4.2.01 - 9:04

it's like, you walk in and everything's chafing at you, the ceiling, the floor, the walls, the way the air hits your skin and dives down your throat when you open the door...ugh. you can't breathe because your sinuses are clogged and because, what, you're not thinking hard enough? what are you thinking in? words and sentences that are showing up on white paper, thoughts for someone else except you can't write those things down, you can't really mean to send that stuff through the mail, oh god, how did it get to be 9:30, how does this happen, how does anything happen, you can't even make the words if you take them away from that white page, if you're not writing them to somebody else because why? the words aren't yours or they don't want to be yours or you're running dry and need to drill in alaska to relieve some of this goddamn pressure? i can draw you a million maps and you can take them or leave them or take me or leave me or take them and leave me, or some combination that you find favorable.

red bull gives you wiiiiings.
dear god, make me a bird so i can fly far, far far away.
icarus.

it's like a dry well in there. what does one do to a dry well? you keep dropping the bucket down, down, down, it's so deep you can't see to the water when there is water, down, farther, until you hear the thud that is the bucket and dirt, not water, and you pull the bucket up and up and up and up and you wonder when (if?) there's going to be water. you would like to water the well even if it were a worthless gesture because there seems to be something fitting and right about it so you go for water but you get your water from the well and the well is dry and you think, oh, if only there were water, but there is no water, there is only, well, this red rock, basically.

you can't water the well with well water when there is no water in the well.

clearly.

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