i am tired tonight, but

i am tired tonight, but feeling strangely alive. I know why. like salt and lime on apple, my lips can taste the earth. listening to chris whitley of late. "dirt floor"
dark and crimson. musty. filled with lust. we mastered last night, not sure yet whether we're finished, but time slips hand to belly. gently now. a man in a room alone is breathing labored air. damp in his lungs, he grabs at throat. another takes it in softly and sees the light in his brick and morter tunnel. we are a car drifting on cement. the heat rises as cliche as it may be, only to bring us sleepless nights with a surfeit of thought. we are no longer hibernating. we are movement. we are blood.

we are tired.

we will go to san diego tomorrow and think new thoughts for a few days. my first time on a plane in years. i need this. and other things too. thank you ron.

sleep my dear chrimpshrine, sleep.

Posted by at August 28, 2002 12:02 AM

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