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/ november is a month of ghosts

a grey knive lurking on the corner of the bathroom counter, incongruously balanced on the edge - just about to fall - the light of day leaked into the room like dish detergent being squeezed gently out of a bottle, and over in the corner, rats rustled in a paper bag. he walked into the room to the sound of the ceiling fan slowly misunderstood. his left sneaker squeaked slightly. paper in his pocket crumpled up and a blue crayon behind one ear. a muddy cigarette in one hand and no lighter. his eyes are silently stained-glass windows inside a church with no congregation, waiting for the hollow bellpulls - the doorbell of the Almighty. he takes out a sharpie and marks an x on the wall. moments later a fly buzzes fatly in and lands on the ��������������������������������������������spot, preening and humming to itself. below, at the baseboard, an ant trundles in. he looks at the mirror. he looks away. outside, a bird hits the window, and all things still, in hushed������������������������������������������mourning. an ignorant cricket looses a selfish mating call and
2003-03-28, 4:57 a.m.

spiderwebs accumulate in the desire-corners

��������� �����music that i have not listened to in a long time. my ear bends around it. the band rachel's playing "old road 60" and it reminds me of driving in the dark. trees arching by, grasping at you, and missing, retracting & receding into the darkness.

i am 20. minor stomach ache.

"my friend dan's house is away from all these lights - it's so clear out tonight. it really is."

"wow, yeah."

"you can see every star."

an evening of long goodbyes, prolonged by the fact that the temperature is expanding like playful taffy, stretching to the limit and slowly contracting to the same as it was - empty cans of mountain dew are strategically placed around the room, like we're waiting for an intruder and maybe he'll trip the wire ... i always assume it'll be a he -

i set tasks for myself. straighten up the room. alphabetize the books. stare at the moon yearningly. listen to moody music. drench myself in honey and wait for the bees.

crescent-shaped fingernails and a loathing for the structure of staccato words - there's a word for it .. stychomythic. sign the guestbook. i miss you. i'm beginning to hate the random nature of these entries, a malformed and vague shape of something yet-to-be-described ...

there is nothing special between these words. there is nothing special between these words. there is nothing love special between these words

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�SEH