Thursday, February 3, 2011


These are the pictures that we took and these are the clouds of ghost houses that we lived in.
Now Memory sits juiced in my peripheral vision and all I think about is how I'd like to be doing something else today.
Spiders live in my eyelashes and when I sleep they make webs between each delicate hair. They never catch anything, but when I try to wake up I can't open my eyes. The dreams I was having play on the insides of my eyelids like re-runs I've never seen before and I think that this is real life.
This is not real life, this is just something I'm doing until I figure out how to stop.

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