I am sick, but not in the typical sense. Drug infleunced, cottony heady drunken stupor of not taking a pill for, what, three days? It's so hard to concentrate, or to even stay awake, but I can't fall asleep, the tossing and turning attracts nightmares. I woke up in a sweat, scared, anxious, all arms wishing for something. Checked my email, no letters from anyone, wrote a letter to Nicole, wistfully wishing her goodtimes. I'm shivering and shaking, can't stop myself from feeling cold, even while I'm perspiring in the palpable heat. Music seems a world away, distant echo in the moss-covered drippy room that is my head, but it's the only thing to hold me and comfort me when no one talks to me.


"Does That Make Sense" - The Jealous Sound

It's the car in the crash
And it all kicks your ass
You can't breathe

It's the start and the stall
And the shame of it all
It's something deceiving

Is there joy in your disease

It's the push of the past
And the die that we cast out
Over and over

With you in my arms I will be new
Stolen charm
Does that make sense to you
Does that make any
Does that make sense to you

It's the song that you bring
As the pawn takes the king
I'm willing to wager

The line for the drinks
And everyone stinks
Cell phone and pagers

Don't feed that line to me

It's smoke and it's sex
And it's what they expect
It's taking me over

With you in my arms I will be new
Stolen charm
Does that make sense to you

With the hold around your wrist
The hope I have for this
These arms will move to you
Refuse to let this die

And if the motion makes you sick
The point I never miss
These arms will lead to you
Believe my side is forever

With you in my arms I will be new
Stolen charm
Does that make sense to you


"Padraic My Prince" - Bright Eyes

i had a brother once
he drowned in a bathtub before he had ever learned how to talk
and i don't know what his name was but my mother does
i heard her say it once, padriac my prince i have all but died from the
sheer weight of my shame. you cried but no one came and the water filled your
tiny lungs. appear, my dear, and cry for me. it was six years ago today that
we laid you in your grave, your sweet young skin was shining then too.
and so tonight to celebrate i will poison myself.
another coughing, shaking fit in a bathroom that is spinning.
so i close the door and rest my head on the tile floor,
sickness and sleep turning me cold.
i am still not sure, is there some better place i should be heading towards?
where the selfishly sick and self absorbed are welcome.
i saw the future once.
i was drunk in a phone booth.
my eyes were wet and red but i could not tell what was said
and through the screams of the traffic voiced carried saying
i am sorry
on a day so gray its black inside
watching churches on tv
in a coma you don't dream you just hope that someone sits with you
babies turn blue when they are ignored like the sky on summer days
before you turn and walk away it has changed you
so tonight to compensate i will poison myself
another coughing, shaking fit in a bathroom that is spinning.