Tuesday, August 1, 2006

the story of stillness has returned. quit my job, finished my finals which means spending days staring at the handless clock of my wall, nights sitting motionless on a stranger’s couch, gasping in a bar. at the bar, everyone’s mouth’s impossibly round, skin dirty, ashen really. when i touch them, bits of skin flake off. come midnight, i leave covered with flesh i can’t place.