the winner is…

not me.
too much inspiration and not enough creativity. i miss them all and apparently that’s a bad thing. apparently it’s wrong. it’s always wrong.
i’m waiting for the dam to burst and i don’t have any towels to stop the leaks. and i’m glad I don’t, because once the dam bursts open then perhaps we can all save ourselves instead of lying to each other on a daily basis. I’m back to looking at people through green-colored glasses, wishing life was really like that over on that side and knowing that they are mere shallow humans walking around in their lean cuisine and abtastic bodies.
i’ve not had a cigarette in 60+ days and my mouth feels like shit. Nothing can make the taste go away, so what do I do? I eat and I consume mass quanties of water and it stilld oesn’t go away.
i’ve written before about my dream of the mystery lover who whom i’d never see but yet he was always with me. the mystery lover whom i knew was a brunette but yet i never saw his face. I have all these qualifications in my head of what they are like, this person. These qualifications that I’ve been fine tuning since i was a wee tot, and today i said to myself “Fuck. it.”
i miss him/them. it never was. i miss their smell.
it was your smell
that’s all i could remember
down on the sofa, on the
closing my eyes and thinking

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