Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Today I don't like anyone so I'm going to write a letter home, and wait for my mother to respond and I'll hate every day until it comes, and I'll open it up and read "to my darling" and finally something will sound the way it was meant to sound, the way only a mother can fix some things, make you believe some things. While I'm waiting I'll write a letter to myself and it will say "The only comfortable side of the bed is the one you're not on" and I'll like the way the truth reads, its so unlike the way the silence rings, the way its making my ears bleed. I want to tell you but I can't, just can't, won't, won't you just up and leave? Miss the way the silence rings? Miss the way I hang, hang from the rafters and miss the way I swing, I swing with the breeze.