“don’t read into the name”
how about i read into the fact you felt the need to say from NY.
“you could do that, but that’s pointless. you said Alife, thought you were wondering what they were. most people who know of or hear of Alife brand know it’s from new york, and it’s easy to describe it that way because that’s were the company was started. before even creating their own clothing as a sort of collector shoe store.”
i don’t care. grosses me out.
get it out right.
i was never ‘born-to-be’, or simply to exist. i am what i had become, in a time period prior to the generation i reside in now.
” its kind of like when two trains pass by each other and you look into the window of the passing train and straight into someone elses eyes
and for a second you wonder if you know them from somewhere “
‘always seems like your going somewhere better then you’ve been’
‘i’ll go back there when i can afford to look that homeless.’
the bedroom is a harvest moon, for resolutions.
have a new aquatic friend, has the audacity to breath beneath water. all day in front of me.
i love you small pal, i love that nobody besides us now knows your existing, here, and we go on living. together in our burning wick low lit hovel. there is irony in our open low, there it see, i couldn’t be any happier.
won’t say ‘if i tried.’
Not entirely sure, unable to honestly speak (pretty sure) but curious is the certainty in the possibility of what was said. with me on top, wander a lot.
its has been bedtime for some time.
time to recite nimble as hard nipples.
a pack is assembling by way of gravition, by way of ilegible emotional translations; by way of sensation fixations; by way of physical existence; by way of erotic yearning; by way of postal segregation; by way of survival tactics and raw tundra seeking gained from the observation of cats. takes our trades to the trails, tolerating allergic reactions to ingredients disaproved by health national to make mousse to fill pastries, residing in mini carbon plantations and selling heroin on the side, conducting atmospheres for sitting, waiting, craving, turning fruits to syrup. associating ourselves with canned goods donated, creatures and greens and fluids we’ve grown and harvested ourselves.
do you choose to have life or do you choose to live the one your given.
only does slim woman.
Nowadays you don’t laugh at mistakes i make. my hips pressed and your getting young. shed our skins time, scent of yours has gone so stale. like eating during night. i know i won’t want to burn any bridge any collage elsewhere. fermented fruits line my bedroom; black mold, salt, and feline hair. we’d both open wide, and you’d get yours.
