kiss me awake, please, i have class in about an hour and a lion in my hair. i folded my clothes on the kitchen counter and used chocolate icecream for coffee creaming, scooped it with the smallest spoon i could find. believe me i'm not drunk, this is way worse. i can deal with being drunkenly sleepy eyed and wobbly, but this, whatever this is makes me listen to tom waites on the porch of an abandoned house and trip down slippy stairs. makes a pillow a lover, innocent eyed. i feel like the blue spruce in our yard makes the cleanest, clearest oxygen. it's crisp.
"it feels like none of this is real"
                                 --everyone, ever.