a diary of thought.
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www.poisonedpunchbowl.com |
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Treadmill running until my body feels bruised on the inside. Feeling like an apple dropped from the top shelf but loving it somehow. Scanning the local copyshop for purple paper. I settle on "purple majesty" and feel oddly happy as I run my fingers across it's slick, perfect surface. "I am easily excited", I told Popsicle. I carried an umbrella all day until I realized that it felt absurd so I let the rain fall on my head, drench my face, my shirt. It brought out the colors in my tattoo. 4 years thinking I had incredible, life ruining amounts of debt. I had the courage today to call the bank. One hundred and twenty five dollars is all I owe for freedom. Amazing. The way the sky cast a certain shade of gray on the cement. The way I studied the faces of strangers looking for a slice of light. Scanned their eyes for a bit of truth. The way 2am is never late enough to go to sleep. The way the darkness seperates our lives into nights and days and now and then and past and present. The way dark roots give my blonde hair history. |
