Wednesday, March 16, 2011

when we all just go about because there is nothing to say

Tuesday, March 08, 2011

In so many ways I want to be a different person. I want to be like a sweater you can turn inside out. I want to live on the other side of the world, or in a desert, or a cave. In the middle night, under the blue halo of the porch light and in the gauze of insomnia, our backyard looks like the moon. I want to live there. I do live there.

pop music like conversation hearts -- all my tethered veins -- all the notes tied up.

When I have the energy to pretend, it's so much easier. (if only we were all pretending, if only this wasn't real) It's like something singing, like a longing for what's not there.
is this real?