it's me again. that girl. that woman. that voyeur that keeps watching you watch me. I've been staring at the ceiling thinking about how I'm supposed to long for girl things. I keep gazing out at Wilco and Billy's Bragg's California stars knowing I'm suppossed to be thinking of that you their singing about. And maybe for that moment before I left I kicked the thought around that I might.. and maybe for a moment here I hit the thought around a few more times that it might be nice if.. well it might be nice to not wish to be left the hell alone... it might be nice to have a finger touch my face instead of a group of fingers hold at my hip bone.... but then ceiling thoughts are quiet ones but not always the most beautiful.... but I can think of all of the things that drive me while i lay there curled and willing and hazy.... and I can forget in the morning, just as I forget most in a week.. or a day.. or a .. what did you say your name was?

i've been ringing around the rosey for a while, i've had that femme smile for a while, crooked and baiting and drunk... it's amazing sometimes to step back inside my mind.. i have so much disgust inside but so much insanity for those I love and will love... it drives me.. the ceilings are always cracked above where I sleep, i think they are cracked underneath me to, if not before then after I arrive. That makes me a bad house guest.

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