
April 6, 2010
It is love to walk home in the sweet night
Air heavy with perfume
Perfumed, I think they meant, with
Sweet flowers and laughter.
That's not my perfume,
No, not my air.
My air, my perfume,
Is fresh bagels, the soft glow of café lights
Sirens, at least three times a night.

I NEED UR BLOGGGGGG
ReplyDeleteTwo.
ReplyDeleteWeeks.
What.
The.
Fuck.
I am currently depressed/sick/hibernating/recovering/studying or something. I have pictures for every day!! Putting them up soon.
ReplyDeleteSoon my butt. Day 75.
ReplyDelete