the do-it-yourself doorway addition plan

lip another cigarette into my mouth and stage another trance setting drop down menu we can all order value meals number threes who eats at luby's anymore?

cigarette dangles low words lost on pages left in the sun to waste away reminding me that i used to have a name live ina place with walls and mirrors and alarm clocks that shot to life at pre-programmed routine times. i had busses to catch and drives to take now sitting smoke rolling out of my mouth telling stories about things i forgot to mention are unimportant. why else bring them up?

so i know i can find solace and peace within these tender walls without a story behind them i can write stories that will leave you long, bereft. and it all seeps through our skin tones and tan-in-a-can and nair and bikini lines shaved and cars left unnatended for unreasonable periods of time. we don't notice any of this anymore just smooth eyeball launches across a room at women men whoever suits our fancy whoever leaves us here and waiting for another chance another day to remember who we always meant to be who we always thought we'd grow into who we wrote down in the first grade "who want to be when we grow up" homework assignment.

whatever whatever floats our boat they say whatever locks us out of the house of shame and sadness closed doors and closed windows. there are no more pies on the kitchen windows of our lives. there are no more gardens to be tended mid-day spring.

so we're sitting here, waiting for the bus waiting for the last hope last chance last chip that's coming in this time around and hoping it has our name carved across the starboard side hammered in cheap spray paint ink from the dime store into the walls of our future leaving all the lighting fixtures new and shimmery. but none of this tells us things we don't know. none of this leads us down roads we haven't at least passed by at least noticed even if we paid no mind paid no attention one great chance to fold out of the wilderness of our empty lives and we are sitting dull and unglamorous. fuck off with your future. we can have all the smiles now save our tears for days when we go blind inside when storms of heartache obscure us from ourselves it won't matter if we say we're sorry or not it won't matter if we tell the truth the one last time when every lie has been stockpiled for the future we're so adament about.

our lives are a collections of should've beens should've saids and our dreams are just a list of things we aren't in places we've never been in times that don't exist and you can have them all. you can have every dream we've ever dreamt. i'll leave them here on the blood alter of your wasted life spent wishing spent lingering in the feilds of no-matter-what, of willpower and i'll trade them all to you. just give me your now .

2003-02-02 | 8:07 p.m.
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