12:42 a.m. - 2006-07-12
one line started it
"i wish to take up this life of mine and wring it dry like a dirty rag wring it dry of any tears and dirt.
a limp grey knot of cloth drips in the sun and when its dry its tired it feels over-wrung it never spreads out properly.
a little flame would set it alight and it would fly in billowing smoke, a little wind would carry it up and it would be gone up in smoke."
my face in the window peering out the sky is grey with heavy clouds
the thunder cracks open my thoughts and then i thought of the knots.
