Dancin at discos, eatin cheese on toast
December 2011
12 posts
I’m staring at the asphalt wondering,
‘whats buried underneath?’
And when I see you
I really see you upside down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
“There’s so much past inside my present”
—Feist
“How much of my brain is willfully my own? How much is not a rubber stamp of what I have read and heard and lived?”
—Sylvia Plath
it’s okay, spread the peanut butter thick.
you’re back home. sleep ‘til noon
and listen to the shape shifters
