plum skins

No one may see it. Not even the to be. He'll fuck me with a blindfold, or his eyes on a Playboy magazine that I'll purchase for him whenever he feels the urge to rub rub our sacred parts.

Post 5 Pot

If I think about existing then I find life tragically difficult. It's only when I think about a gesture-- any physical expression. I focus on voluntary movement;wed;I am incensed at my existence. Example: Fuck, I'm thinking about picking up that pen. That pen is at least a foot away. I petulantly refuse to extend my hand to clench my fingers to pick up that pen. I will sit here and rot until that pen sprouts legs and skitters over, and Fuck You to whatever law of "insert scientific rule" that is keeping that pen from me. I will expound on this later once I figure this out.


It will be gratifying.

good morning, honey

I just finished a little excursion with Allen to 8th and Etruria. I seem to have more significant exchanges with friends when sitting, smoking, on the steps of that house.

During this death walk I mapped out the entire area and watched my back excessively: I just finished watching Dawn of the Dead.

Zombies also seem to be a major focal point of my social circle.

I haven't yet decided if I'm quite willing to be too invested in the dead. But who knows, maybe some more of those smoke breaks and I'll soon realize the significance.

At least we both have death in common. That's a good starting point.