Note to self: stop saying good, don't take ritalin so late at night, get a girlfriend, write more, download fagatron, work on senior project, stop fucking yourself over.

I want to sleep and never wake up. That's a badbadbad plan on my part.

I'm completely out of it. I'm so fucking worried about everything.


There are vines where angel fruit grow
and rupture red pulp flesh
like leeches they destruct
not of the self but of the noise

there is no silence here
strewn nowhere between before and
after the storms came

lavender powder coating eyelids
and lips like so many wings