December 30, 2003

She looked down at the city and wondered why there was no ground.
focus, please, this will affect your life somehow.
Sitting in plastic chairs, like anesthetics.
Addictions, placid like pools of rain water that fell five years ago and refuse to evaporate.
Counting stars, never to reach and end. Infinity, she said. Because they always died when she thought she was finished. Six more to be born. Count always, love.
Ring of bruises ’round the neck.
wash them out with open sores and see the neck weep.
Rivers.
It’s all salt water and I’m drowning in the air.

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