i use mothwash, sometimes i floss

I've got a family
and I drink cups of tea
I've got nostalgic pavements
I've got familiar faces
I've got mixed-up memories
And I've got favourite places.
[and im singing oh oh on a friday night]

i dont sleep much anymore. hours are wasted with writing and infomercials and cutting and pasting.

ugh. funny taste in my mouth.

ive had several dreams about guns plus bullets plus me.
4 nights ago:
im in prison. im trapped. a man comes into my cell and grabs my arm. he tells me hes here to get me out, that i have to go with him now or its the end. we run out the door and through grey hallways. men are behind us, there yelling and threatening. i cant breathe. im scared. suddenly theyre in front of us. one of the men grabs a gun and somehow i have one too. i shoot him twice and shoot the other men down too before realizing theres someone breathing on my neck. he turns me around and shoots me in the chest 4 times. the next thing i remember im in a hospital and the nurses are telling me not to look. i find a mirror and see the gaping holes in my chest. i have no breasts. i stick my fingers into the biggest hole. i can feel my heart beating. i wake up.
2 nights ago:
im living in a house with a group. were nervous and shifty and something is going down. something horrible. im walking from room to room. in the living room i find a girl i know, sitting in a chair and working a silver candy machine. she turns the lever and a small red square comes out. it smells sweet and sugar clings to my hand as i throw it across the room. i hear scratching and moaning. zombies. its whats outside. my heart sinks and breaks in ways i never thought possible. i walk through the house. the rooms seem smaller. the halls are narrow. and so white. im in a bathroom now. i know that the things are getting into the house. i feel frantic. theres a gun in my hand. its cold. the metal sings to me. i put it to my head and breathe out. i dont even hear the shot. as i fall back colors flood and swirl. magentas and reds. blues at the edges. black seeping. im in slow motion. as my head hits the floor and i feel my bone fragments and brains. its a maddening feeling. im going insane. i consider shooting myself again, but my arm wont listen to me. people are in the bathroom now. they pick me up and put me outside. im alone. i wake up.


early morning conversations are scary.
the opening up and the scratchy eyes and the way i feel my mouth twist when im saying something awkward or gross.
its something else. something deeper than the usual howdy doo of the midday.
you cant have these with everyone.
you cant remember them when you wake up.
they just linger in the back parts of the basement of your mind.
fun.

too bad sometimes they bring out the little pinpricks of the past. the raised scars. the lost letters.

like i said. you cant have these with everybody.


ive come to the conclusion that i have a real problem with sex. ive been called a prude lately. ouch. its not my fault that ive grown tired. not my fault that most people are gross to me. its not that i dont want to have sex. i like sex. but something about it and the whole dance. it makes me wince. i think about what it used to be to me. a game. a little toy that i could toss around and flaunt. back when being young and stupid meant not giving a shit how late i was out or what the consequences were. i was an idiot. ive lost the mysterious and seductive part that is love in the physical. the fondest memories of which are tainted and followed up by a bummed cigarette. no i havent been up and down the block. im no whore. im no easy catch. im just wanting something that sex cant be right now. tmi? well too bad. sigh.


its almost 7 now. i remember waking up at this time. now im left begging sleep to come and fighting the migraine thats always crouched at the top of the hour. cheers.


heres to the click of these keys. heres to my lover asleep and unaware. heres to the smoke and the sunrise and the cats at my feet.

lovely.