siv

hey dude whatever. i eschew punctation. i should have learned a long time ago.

and when i read your new entries and you're not the old pony, you're an alien and i have no idea where two years of you are mine, all mine, and you holding my arms down with your urgent hands have gone.

and when a wake of confused boys and men have heard the dee-doo-DEET of the changed number, and i'm mist, and i'm gone, and i can't be a sophomore bothered and alone is not thinking so i leave you. i leave the russian language senior and the catholic virgin and the sock-stalker and the platonic and pathetic sweetly awkward snog in the middle of emery-wooley.

and when you (you no. 2) have said: i keep worrying you'll tell me not to come back and i worry about your plane crashing into Sardinian isles and i'd be fucked up for life if i lost you and that has gone.

and when you from long ago has said that well actually you never said. we were two and we were interchangeable, but o i was the spark and she was the slowly rousted ember.

and when all the visions and revisions between the taking of the toast and tea have, why the fuck do i do anything at all.

listen to Mount Sims.

p.s. i like my job.