so you do

so it was words spilled out, i wrote you letters at dawn and sometimes i told you things then posted them and i wondered if you wanted people to know it was you or not, wondered if you liked being the dark-horse-silent creature who walks with abandoned wind and has books, has books written about her.

so i wrote a few already that are about her, only a handful she knows about and i wonder if she wants to know more, if you want to know more?

talking, here, like this, is like turning my head, changing phone lines, telling god all about you, he's on line two and you're there, you're there, waiting for me to get back to you.

jesus, you set the sun, sometimes.

2003-12-31 | 1:15 p.m.
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