Oh fleeting. Oh kisses on the couch, oh only when no ones around. Oh writing in cursive. fact. horror films. the perfection of a niche of friends. Superlove Superfly perfectly timed, rehearsed music. reading in the windy hear of the new spring day.
I love the way your fingers smell like fresh tobacco from a bag. walks and lacrosse games.
and I love how i get interrupted by spontaneous drawing --- here, color yourself into my life, leave shoes torn and gray beaten on the carpet in silence.
Love how they fall off couches and loveseats and how writing and sketching sound a lot alike from mechanical pencils, ones you stole from your stage manager
----memorize your script!
This is how i draw a rectangle, found poetry, found art. A home of artists, but the things I could adore and miss. eating just a bowl of oatmeal today and not having anymore money. few calories from gum.
Homework that I don't participate in, running backwards looking, skimming like research method or what have you, avert your eyes. reading puts you to bed. traded smiles and silence - thats really where it's at. go to sleep. go to bed. get rest, fall in love even more with your blonde headed take no shit from nobody wears lime green shitkicker boots best friend and sigh.
you are going home tomorrow, it has been an overwhelmingly expressive adventure, a telling one. there are chandelier shadows on the wall. my shoes are over there. its 3:25 in the morning. this was supposed to be my chemistry notebook. I guess I'll get another one. Be so thankful, really, you seem to own everything you need. You are lucky, self. And I really do like everything about you, even though you put yourself in lists too.
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