11.02 i'm looking for a second-hand unicycle on facebook marketplace. it’s october country - gil scott herron season - & i borrow from the library and promise to bring return on halloween. Your Flag Decall Won’t Get You Into Heaven & go a whole week without texting love because it was there cradling me in the nook of his arm, full of crab cakes, done the right way. old bay, lump of crab, - is it hermes he wears? - mayonnaise, all seared on an un-buttered skillet: he fills my kitchen well. we dress as luke & lorelai to the party & i fill a coffee mug named "Give me coffee and tell me I'm pretty" with two protein shakes, to make up for forgotten meals. these friends do acro and smack each other's ass; smell of akigalawood, bergamot, carrot seeds, cardamom, lavender, leather, musk, orris, and sandalwood. (this smell reminds me of vintage colorado, the one around the planting a 50-something-year-old first kiss on my middle school lips, but it smells comfortable to me now.) Natalie played sexy spaghetti in a local production & I feel the urge to practice juggling again. 10.14 goodbye to the ferris wheel. i experiment with lipstains & avoid medical bills. we are big jacketed and carpuscular. 10.13 the year of (!). my godson runs rampant and chews on my leg. I am not OSHA compliant and neither is the bell tower i climb i get paid to climb the bell tower and eat subway while outside drunk people dance. christmas with the in-laws means a war in which i can win without deception with the perfect twice baked potato. well underway, the entrance of moo dheng, pesto, & little caboose into my life. my insides leak outwards. i know the joke man by name. on my way to get the weekly 12 dollar bundle of flowers he tells me the real punchline is the time his wife punched him in the face. coming on a year of the birth of the elipses. my existential kink. of learning not everyone’s dad has a car flask. all my friends’ christmas presents live paper-bagged in my room’s corner, and (when i remember to take the recycling out) the whole apartment smells of vetiver and sandalwood. 09.21 we confused love and pity. i unclogged the sink with a snake drank and that shit smelt mildewy. i will one day be grampused with shit from the shower drain. it will spurt up at me in opposite of the concaving of a bullet riddled jello cake. sent my charlotte bananagrams & thought about painting my nails. watched a season of girls instead. 09.09 the metal arm wrest transfers a chatterbuzz into my bottom molar’s jaw 09.07 dreamt about zombies again. strayed to find blueberries and got terribly lost. found, i had a feeling that i’d be able to be useful to them if i could figure out how 06.03 lately, i haven’t had to make anything up. six trash bagged woven crows hanging from power lines like laundry.