Music:crown me king- aren't you a little short for a deathstar?
& i get swept up in it, i am a sugarcube melting under the spoon, being spun into nothing by trickling green. here i go he said to the undertow-- here i go. it isn't really miserable for all that. going to the gym is always fun, & for a little while she rested her head in my lap, but i am feline & slipped out to padfoot around the apartment. i read a little, i cooked diner for us, i fooled around with .pdf files (leading only to more frustration), & counted on my fingers & took notes in little books. no, no, i'm drizzled away into the water now, & are you sure i'm not the bitter? the arsenic in the lace? squint your eyes & count to thirteen. it is something lodged in the back of my neck, covered by criss-crossed band-aides. you can't shake off a halo no matter how hard you try. i think about having switchblades instead of beetle-wings, & if making my home in a matchbox. i just fold up my eyelids like clean laundry & try to make a straight line (meanwhile, my clean laundry goes unfolded). just heart going 'round like the crank on a jack-in-the-box. with just an awful a surprise as you could guess. hideous marionette me.