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I know that you would like me, if only you could see me. Or, 866.

It started feeling the water. Or thinking I was feeling the water. I thought of writing that as soon as after I thought of the Smiths, shortly I thought too tired to write. Right before I shaved, uh oh. It didn't ring for me, for what. Wouldn't you rather hear than read? It's okay for you to hate me. I know I'm unloveable.

I started thinking I couldn't stand. Had to sit to make the bed. Had to sit to walk outside.

He stradles that line every morning.

I haven't the energy to, but I wonder at where you went. Desire to type what I hear, transcribe, what is in front of me. But I've crept into a drug haze.

I don't care for anything anymore, except maybe sitting in my chair, smoking, thumbs in arches, watching you with a leg on either side.

Stretch out and wait.

How do you live without watching your heart, pumping, body?

9:19 p.m. - 2004-04-06


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