Oct. 12, 2003 @ 6:12 p.m.

The taste of cold pizza jars my awareness back from the visual haziness of her standing against the object of my inner desire, smoking rolled papers with the contents of me stuffed inside. The smoke twirling and spinning like the insides of my head as it all comes to a halt on my pillow. My dreams are the only place that I am safe from pain, the only place that I am free to roam free of obligation and consequence. I wish for you to accompany me, because nothing is worse than going to sleep the night after waking up with her in your arms. I can handle awakening to the soft reply of your chest’s breathing, telling me you’re still alive and possibly meaning that there is a chance you might still care. I’m suspended and hardly animated. Thoughts dancing around my body like small children, with noisy whispers of inability, just barely beyond the grasp of my ear’s imaginary hand, so that it drives me insane. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!!?"