Ephemeral Boy
<< 1:10 a.m. - Friday, Dec. 03, 2004 >>
This beginning has the fragile spinning sounds of you.
I don't know where we're going.

Fuck man, that's not new.

Orange peels left out on the counter
We're rotting. Stagnant.
I'm still waiting for summer.
I'm still waiting for the good smell to return.

You are curled before me.
Tangible as I've ever seen.
You look like me.

Breakable. Ending.
Full of holes.
Face twisted, my god, you look how I feel.
I missed your unaltered states.