picking up and picking up and picking up

...all these pieces


too many people are dead this week.






...some footsteps to follow in.

the only thing left in box was hope

i tried to do magic and failed.

(walked too far and can't get home)

don't go back to sleep

and the word ruin into my right. because i owe these things to drawings made months ago. stories read years ago. to conversations everyday with these others who i won't let give up.

a plan to get wings (more hermes than icarus) which might be just a beginning, just a way of getting this girl somewhere.somewhere. somewhere where you cans see better and make more. a promise to myself. that my words are audible and that i bleed under a knife.

i wrote a message: 'i just tattooed my left heel...'

reply: '!!!how come? with what? revolutions, fire- the patient work for our impatiencefor freedom. x' something to do with foucault, you said

this is the beginning.

someone a while away wrote to me today:

Are you coming





If so bring the masses





Do a performance



GO ON





ya will

Bring the masses and the more dressed up the better, maybe that old ball gown



Love

and the band played.....

H A N G O N T O E A C H O T H E R

blood and ink

(plan to get wings)






i just tattooed the word hope into my left heel





on wednesday it all fell away. i fell. away from it all because she finally didn't tell me it was all ok and the pieces broke apart and my eyes ate up my heart with their thirst and their years and years and for a while there was nothing. at. all as i tried to go back to sleep. don't you fucking dare go back to sleep.