Saturday, Jan. 15, 2005 : I do.
I'm awake and feeling ever-so-slightly alone. It's 3.31 and in the sitting room there are some beautiful people making a cuckoo chorus of sleeping noises. I'm in my own house and I still don't feel like I belong, nowhere to hide. It's a shame that my love is the wrong kind of love. That you can't even see it, though I put it right out there for you to scratch away. And golly-gosh-goddamnit, I wish that someone could see.


I wanna be much more like you
Your effortlessly graceful scene
That drips from every pore of you
Where logic cannot intervene
I wanna take a bath with you
And wash the chaos from my skin
I wanna fall in love with you
So how do we begin ?

I'm going to go back in and soak up some of your heat; even though it's not mine to take, it's so cold out here. There are nightingales singing on the trees outside.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending: