i will when i stop thinking thoughts that provoke existing thoughts within themselves.

we'll be coming home
coming, coming home.
some day soon,
january or june
evening, morning or afternoon

so you just stand and wait
by the garden gate
till my ship comes bouncing o'er the foam.
we'll be together
for ever and ever,
never more to roam
he'll be coming
we'll be coming
i'll be coming home.

what am i doing wrong?

there was a deer's head hanging from the wall in my hotel room, last night.
not hanging,
but standing as firmly as he would have on his own legs,
watching me change, wash, brush, and sleep.
his shoulders were strong; and he had a thick, perfectly morphed skull.
those sorrowful eyes glared at me, followed my path throughout the room.
it felt like a security light on the back of my neck, in the corners of my own eyes.
and in the dark
in the dark, antlers stretched themselves across the ceiling, and those same eyes stared profoundly into mine; the slightest gloss left shone from the parking lot's dim lighting.
and there was a point, around 2:30, where we had stared at eachother without shoulders to hold our heads.
and i saw
we weren't very different from eachother at all.

I've recently spent the last four days in a fast moving, insomnia diagnosed city. A city that has brought a northern glow to me; with back alleys that smelled sweet, and the troubled who were comfortable. Nothing reminded me of home there, in contrast to how chicago, or new york would. Everyone's thighs were toned from the streets, and the walls were colored to each individual taste. My pace had quickened with this short stay, and my eyes dilated a few centimeters larger at the sights of green and gray whom each have held their separate quarters.

you should be mentioned, as well.
The reason behind my curtains hasn't been entirely sinless, but you've been a great addition. I'll admit to a slight tenderness about the outcome, but i can't deny the impressed opinion i have received upon meeting you. You walk just how i used to envision you on those dull days at work, pulling buckets of water back towards the heated kitchen with my clumsy backtracking. you've been a much needed help on this trip and it was lovely to do the things we've always talked about doing. i'm terrible to realize i've had oranges and sand filled to the rim of my mouth the majority of the time, and that's not my full stomach. i thought i could close my mouth on the two and get away with it, but you still noticed the dripping of the orange around my mouth. if given a few more days, i would spit out the peels and the shells so you can explore my voice. that's it.

(writer's block.)

ear press

i woke up at 11:30
the cat's sleeping at my feet, not my head
i make a fast breakfast and use the computer
my shoulders and neck bearing dust
made a cup of coffee
missed how much sugar always went in yours
i drove to work
dumped buckets of water, and wished everyone a great day
got off at 9 and went home
i greet myself back
and walk in the shower
washed myself, glanced naked in the mirror
i scratch the water off my hair
waited for a "stop it, you're getting me wet!"
i sit in my chair
only i sit in this chair
i roll over to my bed
one side open