December 09, 2004

You were talking about your dis-ease and I took your words out of context again:

I need people to tell me to stop killing my own body.

I have to poke Jell-o if it’s perfect and uncut in a fridge.

Koreans have been screaming the lyrics to Tribute in my head all day.

I‘m offending the right people.

I am a poet.

I‘m trying to let go of my future.

I randomly bust out quotes about hate.

Next time I‘m clenching my jaw shut.

I ate all of the marshmallows from the lucky charms box.

If I were “a super hot female” I’d have no problem writing about Foucault.

Maybe this isn’t really the end of my pedagogical bliss?

I just want all you internet people to know that I am not well.