Thursday, May 30, 2002
i feel ridiculously fragile. my drivers license
number has been sent to the state so i can get
into the prison for the killer's deposition. what
if they say no, or dig up all the shit there is to
dig up on me? i am checking my email and there is
something from bekah's father and it feels like
it has a machine gun attached...did i mention that
they buried someone in my plot, next to bekah?
sometimes . . . sometimes it feels less than worth
it. but until i go look at these emails [there's also
one from my friend about my book], i don't really know
that. i could be back here in 5 minutes having
read everything i dreamed of. but i don't think i will be.
Who am i, what am i
A picture's worth
moon phases |
I stand on the sand, and I'm rocking
grief to sleep in my arms.
issues
Poetry roll
Comments by: YACCS