hello ! i miss u ! please send me mail ! lovelag@protonmail.com __,._ / _ \ | 6 \ \ oo \___/ .|__|| _,..="^ . , " , \ ____ ____ ;.__________________/ "the lost glove is happy" 10.21 sometimes it feels easier to put a name on something so it makes more sense but sometimes we don't have a name for the thing and we just have to let it do what it does that's okay too. i guess. i don't have a choice. 10.19 small things sending me reeling this next week will be better maybe 10.16 listening to lots of death cab people liked my writing at the writing group last night , they said it felt viscerally uncomfortable well yes! that’s how i feel 10.15 wish i had a better way to articulate but it feels like someone has a laser pointed in my face and one on my chest god is hunting my ass for sport 10.11 yeah its all falling apart and i feel awful but love is real and its holding me up 10.06 yeah its all coming together one more time if i could stop sounding so desperate maybe my life would get easier 10.05 i was writing something about fat fingers and baby teeth i was shaky lip crying i was a baby myself thinking about friends looking at the ceiling waiting for the word gullible to appear in shadows 10.01 forgot about the fast tomorrow when i was little i was told we fast to be like the angels who do not eat or drink we say god make me an angel i am also free from wrong instead i will go to work tomorrow like i usually do human with a hungry heart 9.28 i walked into the kitchen and the gnats responded, greeting me from sink and garbage disposal and compost to kiss the salt on my face before i did the dishes a man is yelling in the street outside far away; i can’t discern his words and cars are honking i can hear their horns blaring as they drive past i emerge from my home for a walk in the evening, i don’t get far; i have found no tears to sip 9.27 ready to cry, i did it before gnats in the kitchen hole in the screen 9.19 was it a firefly, a shooting star or a trick of the light i saw in the yard last night guess it helps to look up sometimes 9.14 straining passionfruit for juice a million seeds a yellow pulp 9.06 maybe this year... maybe this year it'll stop and i'll feel normal again every year i think it's going to stop and i'll be okay but it hasn't and i still am so there 9.03 no work wednesday and i studied listening to harley music and the sound of the water hitting the dishes really hot like really turned the ac on then turned it off again because we can stand it 8.25 soft bodies wasting away, cold chamber misty waiting far from home life drips from skin sticky sacred always dying alone in an empty room alone in a busy room pushed into a corner and dripping down the wall unseen until it’s obvious warm once warm again at last free from winter’s tomb and safe in earth soul released whispering wet