| there are 37 rooftops from where i look out
and 3 lights that stand out brighter than the others
5 if you count the ones dancing beind the tree with red leaves
the expanse of civilization below seems less with widows closed, shades drawn, every square foot of concrete bare of any heartbeat [though i can hear mine, i only watch]
and the wind [which has been so customary lately] stakes its claim to the patterns of power lines and branches and burns the ends for me.
saves me seconds [in incriments of six] at the end
the carpet has made mazes in my knees
for the finale i line you up in a row, where even the rain hasn't urged you to roll down the incline and below, to where others tread in the morning [but this one is just about my window] |
| |
| kate grube is.. 1. deciding she is actually very stupid sometimes. 2. trying to make music 2. actually just pushing buttons on her microkorg [mmm] 3. apparently prenatal and hasn't learned her numbers 4. always unhappy on wednesdays 5. looking for chap stick |
| |
| one: microkorg. not alesis.
two: go walrus. [this remains amazing]
three: fuck you, rocks.
four: hurray life!
everything is lovely lovely.
if only my parents would go back to wisconsin.
and i wish i wasnt so poor.
|
| |
| hi, walrus!!
lalalala
iminabandiminabandiminaband.
and we're really good, too.
 minemineminemine!!
[edit] just kidding. eff you, craigslist-liar bitch-ho-slutbag-skank. |
| |
| yay, job!
i like working.
i do, i do. |
| |
