Jan. 12, 2004 @ 9:32 p.m.

The mouth that I am paying significant amounts of money to speak is ruthlessly testing the limits of my ability to pay attention while still caring. No one task ever completes itself by remaining completely focused for any great length of time. Thoughts diving in and out, subject to subject, bouncing around inside my brain like Atari Ping Pong; thinking at it’s functional, rawest form. Once again, my hand rests on Pandora’s box and the uncomfortable feeling that stirs in my stomach feels like a sloth with razor sharp nails is climbing my insides to exit through my mouth. The water that I tread isn’t of the consistency of any drinkable liquid. Your presence in my head is beating on the cavity walls, scratching and biting with tooth and nail, grinding away to the flesh like a dog with freedom reflecting and radiating through it’s eyes. My stomach seemingly leaks acid every time my eyes fall onto you and yet I can’t decide if it’s you or my stomach that needs to go...