notice. we are impermanent.

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i am leaving for spring break; shall be back in approximately a week and will then post a ton of pictures and whatnot from both my trip and my day with lily (which was AWESOME)

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i was rummaging through my old writing and found this from last summer :



good for you

Perhaps that's all it was—
another sugary curve on her body,
like that damn exposed neck.
Luring a tongue to paint it
in moisture; in that brush-like way of yours.
Ever though it was a want and not a need.
Or maybe it was my lack of sugary curves.
Maybe my lips tasted
of Epsom salt.
Everyone I know prefers honey.

I'm only grasping for a reason, though.
Because after days of refilling tumblers
and self-directed, croaking "cheers," chain-
smoking to try and dim my painfully clear
vision, and shot after shot
after shot…

I waited when you called, listening to your
ambiguous explanations and
eventually hearing the click of dead
communication on your end.
The monotone cry kept resounding fifteen minutes
after you hung up
and I kept staring at the phone,
telling myself that there wasn't a similarity
between that sustained, inhuman moan
and the weeping in my head.

Can't remember going back to life.
The bottles are back in the cabinet,
I wear a nicotine patch, and
I eat my vegetables.
And I threw out every bit of sugar
in my house.

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surprises. wonderful.




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