lets start writing stories again shall we?

forget it

too many voices drown out the whisper that must be heard.
the television drowns out the child's screams.
this rain drowns out the homeless man's mumbles of despair.
the gas drowns out the air in sylvia's lungs.
the telephone rings. and it rings. and it continues to ring.
dont follow my blog unless you actually care.

the pebbles and glass felt good beneath my feet whilst i walked from the parking lot back to my apartment. sort of like a hundred cold and sharp tiny blades of grass in a changing world. i went for a drive because i couldn't sleep and to have a cigarette and to help myself think. i smoke when i'm depressed or worried. so i smoke a lot. i know i said i was quitting but there will always be time for that in the future when we're a little bit happier. the roads passed by five miles per hour less than the limit. there isn't any hurry to get nowhere. my exhales of smoke left my mouth to join the thick fog outside that encompassed me. i have always told you that "i am afraid of pain." "..not death." "i love you more than i love myself." these things i have said are true. gather from this what you will. my roommates are feet away from me, but they could not be farther away from knowing what i feel. permanent indications of the future have been made. goodnight.

noble

my perspiring plastic cup began completely full
now it is empty besides ice and probably a small amount of saliva
"any sugar or cream in that for yah honey?"
"no. black."
"yah sure?"
"YES."
what an annoyance
maybe ill try going up for a refill
i hear that theyre only fifty cents
kinda cheap
not cheap enough for the workers who pick the coffee beans to get one
but yanno
sliding my chair back i say that ill be right back
what. an. interesting. dialogue.
"do you have a membership card?"
"i haven't gotten one in the last half an hour. so, still no."
"cream?"
"god. no."
walking back to my chair i notice a solider sitting and sipping something
i know he's a solider because the only gear it seems he's missing is a rifle
are all his other clothes dirty or something?
whatever.
my perspiring plastic cup is leaving my hands and the table wet
i shouldnt have read my friends blog
reading ruins my writing
goddamnit
my coffee tastes like a cup of cigarette ash and water
i kind of like it
my knees are starting to feel good
whenever i smoke, drink, or pretty much do anything involving chemical alteration my knees start to feel terrific. like the way your arm feels after its fallen asleep. or if youre stoned. can everyone identify the feeling now? good.
ill probably have arthritis when im older.
least of my problems right now.

we travel by night
avoiding the sun and the heat it brings with it
we never did get to say farewell
the past few days seem like a dream
but not because it was surreal