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Today is the same flavor spit as Saturday and Sunday combined. I had the day off for other reasons, and instead of dragging myself to work, I stayed at home with Lolita and Coke and Marlboro.

Baby got a gun, how�s she to know

My lucid moments come at me from the drain in the bathtub. When I�ve run the water too hot, and I creep into it, sitting in a fetal position, imagining my body emaciated, like I�ve come down from some awful heroin binge, when really I�ve just been dead for three days.

I already seen the ghosts every where I go

Life is a series of benders, drugs of choice that are not coded as such. Chat, diaries, websites, porn, masturbation, showers, music, books. I lose myself in these things long enough to forget who I am, and what I am doing. Distract from the real goal. Divert attention to things of less importance.

She don�t know that I don�t mind

Realize, I�m nothing but a chipped manicure. Probably perfect to someone who doesn�t notice the details, flawed execution, poor, rushed choice in colour.

If angry, she�ll be fine

Still I grab at my aching calf, feeling the beautiful muscle there, one of three body parts I willingly admit to loving. My body feels old beyond its years. Like any good piece of literature, or any song with the secret combination, it moves me to think about taking action, but never enough to jump out of the water and run to my car.

But if she cry, please don�t let me know

So here�s the steady decline, after the up and out and good. The rose glasses discarded in favor of the sunglasses. The bright outside too much for my eyes, the loneliness too much to really ever be gone, the promises taken back, the feeling skewed, the outline blurred.

Well I seen her with her piece today

Today�s the day where dropping out seems the best laid plan since every other failed plan. Plans only make the universe laugh. Oh! Control! Yeah. You can�t have that, but surely we can send you away with a load of Frustration.

What they don�t tell you at the store, what�s written in fine print on the bottom, backwards, is that your frustraion slowly takes the form of apathy and resignation.

Never missed you more, seeing you that way

I�m going to paint my nails, and hope that no one notices the smudges.

12:21 p.m. - 2002-10-21


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