i could step off into the water

but i've got shit to do, and an exam on friday.

I walk past the man at the desk and he looks at the swish of my legs and I wonder who it is that these eyes see. Eyes, eyes which are hidden between falsity and powder, not my eyes, not theirs, but eyes which are created. Belonging to no one.

Who is it that you love? I don’t know I don’t I don’t I don’t or perhaps I do. If you claim it’s so close to hatred, then I do too. Sometimes I swear I can feel someone next to me on the bed. It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes closed and ignoring the pain resting snug beneath my diaphragm.

There’s a room in my school, and I’ve locked myself in it to think. It’s quiet here (so loud in here). Let’s not be shy about this.

Okay. Some answers for you:

What is want? It’s something which chokes you and throws you into flutter breath tears, unrequited, the realisation that tears can strangle you up.
Why even try? Because there is never an end, nothing can be finished.
Why wish for anything? Because once upon a time we were moonshine.
Isn’t that a language game? Only if you’re lucky. You’re looking at the body of the language and not it’s soul – stop concentrating on the shapes and realise that sounds are effects, and maybe someday work out some meanings...

To that same person, I keep meaning to step out of the idea you carry of me and into a reality for you, but it’s going to take some doing to work out how to do that. But I've got an idea of an email I owe you.

Sorry I am.

Song for today: Devendra Banhart's Inaniel. Or maybe his Cripple Crow. Something to sink into.