i bet you think this song is about you (the letter)

you were speaking slow and words coming out and i knew knew know and fuck if it sin't a fucked up tale this life with turnabouts and (you're so vain) and i'm thinking about a few more things i'd like to say but it's hard to get around to them sometimes, and it's funny how restrictive moments can be how tiring it can be to breathe knowing your out there, and i want you to know, think you should know, deserve to know, and maybe it's okay if you make it, shit, i know----glasshouse, dreary cold wind earlobes for the blind---and something, tells me oh it tells me there are a thousand more songs to be sung and usually, with these things, i'm right.

sometimes, often as daycare nightmares, fuck, children without fear, i can be wrong and distracted, and i lose myself whenever i think of your eyes.

i spent the day, wander and talk and booze, schmooze, cruise, talk loud talk proud, taking over the world is overrated, i'm steppi9ng out of the meeting where i never uysed to sit quiet and all i want to do is hear your voice. i think you like it better when i don't care about you.

i was thinking i might spend the evening with a bottle of whisky and wandering the streets cold drunk dead dying breaths and flaling over int he grass getting muddier muddier byt he moment and thinking, how, oh, you know all the things i think sometimes and you leave them out, choose to not speak say it out loud, living in a quiet dead room and i'm thinking about how rimbaud must have felt and wondering how he dealt with it before he went to the desert. can any life worth having be dealt with without johnny walker?

but instead, a couple bottles of water (you know how easily i dehydrate) and then to bed, watch a film or two, what do you have to say about that? i might even listen to some nice music, low and tiresom before i fall to sleep, maybe punch-drunk love or whatnot, maybe i'll be quiet for a few minutes and see what happens. maybe i will.

oh and from what i see, you're just more than...

so it's something more less than fragile, where's your freckled life now, tender after-sun moments, not too many days gone by and wearing nothing but a smile---glory be, shoot the moon, you, with everything and i fall, now, how i need to sleep beside you some cold nights before we all curl up dead and dry---and books, i read to find answers not published in the users guide toa human soul and maybe these guys figured a few lost things out and maybe i know what i mean, and maybe it's all so true.

then again, and nothing.

then again, and nothing.

oh and it's easy working up and down long stragne avenues can you think of small eyes round and unconfirmed, you're so easy to fall for, like stars for a sky (how could they fall for anything else?) and then, soimething someday tells me life is coasting by and i can see you there, hear you breathing anbd what more does a man like me need? what more does a man like me need?

like an empty room, locked door with tragedy closed heart claustraphobic and weary working towards nothing but your end, you're end is nothing but a day to know you've been and i know, i bet you're asking yourself what the hell it is i'm talking about. don't you know?

but it's you. cold minutes, and so, yeah, i held the phone and waited and i think you like the idea of that, and shit, hell, i know that probably alright (i mean, why the hell not?) so worry less--good god got big news and nothings' coming back the way we thought, jesus, do you know any songs that are being sung yet?

like late, listening to (lover i dont have to love) picked you out he says, i keep thinking about you across a bar, and i'm sure we've been like that before. i'm sure we've been like that before, and hell, i know i want to touch you [soon, fuck, now what, she says he knows and i'm so confused so confused so confused and walking] do you know what i mean when i say these things? do you ever feel that way?

i remember, childhood, used to be a freind to this little guy named chester (i think) and man how he could climb trees....

2003-08-28 | 12:07 p.m.
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