4.13.07

i hate the smell of alcohol when it lingers on people.

most of the time, i still want to pull the collar up from my coat over my ears and pretend i'm not home. i hear sounds in the kitchen and expect that they are the clatter of a brooding individual with horrible things to say and with will to harm. in reality, they are the sounds it takes to make lunch or pull something out of the refrigerator. i want silence before i've had my coffee in the mornings.

dreaming is a private activity and not just anyone has the right to be around for it. either i'll sleep alone, or i'll stop dreaming; and i'm not about to stop dreaming.