fucking ball and chain down in my larynx and there's nothing but
squirming to do. couch sleeping religiously. meet my god, popcorn
ceiling. I hate all lamps, confused halos trying their best to say,
"here, here I am." the only light I like is lightning and the
corresponding bugs that I capture in my tote bag and set loose inside
my living room. they fly around the potted corner forest, I sit in the
dark on the stairs and marvel. they're marvelous. you told me, "forget
the bad," thanks but I can't seem to. I like to feel things. pain is so much
stronger than love. not that there's much of that to confuse. this is
too much, I'm sinking and the water's freezing.