ALRIGHT... alright.. so there's this woman on the bus and she's sitting across from me. She sees me get on the bus and slide passed her in my not- so - friendly I'm doing serious damage to your feet and your unborn children's feet big black shoes. I slip in between two people and sit across from her and stare half out the window desercrated on the interior by scratches and markers and stench and on the outside by the murk and fog that is the impendning that awaits me outside.

it occurs to me, outisde of this story of the woman with the husband that beats her and the man who is drunk that had listened to her say few sentences before shutting his eyes and falling alseep in between his loosening and tighening grip of his brown paper bag, that today was the day - and yesterday was another one gone and tommorrow, oh tommorrow it'll be grand but i'll still go to bed drunk with heavy lips wanting to fall ontop of someone else's, specifically. it occurrs to me now that i can't anwser all those questions i wanted a man to ask me and maybe i've been staring into the light too long trying to blind myself but maybe i've anticiapted too long that question, those questions and fogrotten to think of that answer.

cryptic, i'm back to being cryptic and i'm back to being cryptic.. have i mentioned how alone it feels to be alone. how quiet it feels to be quiet.

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