Friday, January 30, 2009

make your own damn sammich!

Most of the time I like this city much better when I shut my eyes.  
Sometimes I miss being the girl that all the boys want to fuck, the life of the something, hitting you in the face with my hair, hair everywhere, 40 oz., pocket fulla nothing, backyard geysers, churches, and greasy mexican foooooood.


The next time I see you, I want you to be invisible.  It wasn't even about you.  You were like a train, a quiet train that arrives in the middle of the night.  I didn't even hear you because I'm a heavy sleeper.  

My whole life so far has been like stomping on eggshells.

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