kindasean

so maybe tomorrow i will wake up alone in an elevator

in love with the morning--and i will be erect and dehydrated. there will be sunspots on my hands and i will see stars by straining when i breathe.

there will be an intense craving for soup, as well as comic books that have no endings and branch off into numerous spinoffs much like those fucking American Pie movies.

i have a soft spot for (insert name here.)

i cannot tell you how long i have been in this silent room. i'm aging rapidly and so very amazed that i have lasted this long.

playing MUZAK in my ears

i can cuddle with the thought that everything will explode and i will drown in the confetti.

or the doors will open and there will be an old woman playing the Perfect Strangers theme song on the trumpet and i will toss some quarters in her hat and be grateful for the friends and memories i have kept in my pocket next to a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

i think love is fashioned better when it is sewn into a million smiles.

there will be a sunrise that is unlike any other.

my tears will taste like Gatorade.

purple.