in loo of laundry

better and better.

I played with kids today. and although I want to be oh so cool, it made me smile hard, living obnoxious. I'm scared to list the things I want. Scared that their piercing want will scar me and will i ever be able to breathe again without everyone noticing that i wheez for my supposed unanswered prayers that are all the secret dreams i sufficated. it must be a crime.

I have my long lost books now. It feels good and confining and rich and really trite and substantial and though they are now part of my walls, on the once empty bookselves, crammed, they feel like landscape. Like I am surrounding myself with that person i want to be and could never

Each night ends in such rapture at rediscovering my favorites again. Neruda, the sonnets of the biggest, badest cock ever, more more more. these words are not as stifling as 9 boxes of heavy books they bed me well

and i still haven't decided whether it is worth it.