get out of your boxes

dropping brides at the alter

i shot a man in reno, just to watch him die.

get out of your boxes.

the happiness of others so wonderful and simultaneously heartbreaking. companionship. i want to be alone with this loneliness, so that it's only mine. i want my anonymity.

to say hello how do you do to only strangers, and only once.

knowing no one. i've given up on taking care. nobody gets anything. i am filthy. i know that. there is dirt in my hair and my clothes aren't clean. you don't have to tell me. that part of me cares, only because of how i imagine you would look at me. disgusted. but for the most part, there is no concern for self-preservation. this is hibernation. thoughts come to me while i am working, i don't know where to place them, or don't have time. they eventually evaporate. then i sleep and sleep. and half way through my dreams, i wake to my own overwhelming metal restlessness. it finds me even in sleep! i despair for five minutes, before sleep takes me back again. but that five minutes is a nasty time. this era makes me like the living dead. i've completed a portion of this education, i'm waiting for the rest. it's coming, and i'm waiting. and i'm dead mostly. i can see my own death in dirty fingernails. the fact that i don't shower unless i want to feel water on my body. in my tattered clothing. in my broken shoes. in the mirror when i put on my makeup. the question is, why am i still putting on eyeshadow? the answer is in the bad air. the decided cause of everything sickening.

Adirondacks !