The Living Journal Archive

It was in my coffee so I drank it -and the pen started avoiding it. so I let it.

I pause the story and nothing tells me who I am.

there is a lump in my throat, my heart and a weight that flattens my spirit. On the hippity hop- waiting until dark. pillows to the window like stones in a river- dont make the floor board creek-but get to the window so you can watch for him.