Communicator, cooker, drinker, poet. Grew up in a mining town, wore a hard hat.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006


is the silence. and nothing is as complicated as it could be. it isn't hot or cold, late or is, simply. i am sitting on a fire escape, the bars are making lines on my white legs. my blog entries are getting progressively worse. i have nothing to say and everything to confess.