That She Taught Me.

Getting darker outside, getting darker outside. I have to take the steel bars down, there is ahhhh this strain of thought is not where I'm going right now.

Sven is angry at me for having not taken him for a ride as I had promised. Tomorrow morning, first thing. Press my finger to my lips and keep it like a secret.

Reading back through my old journal and photo book was like meeting myself in a dark [safe] back alley and talking in conspiratorial whispers, hush hush emily, we're laughing about something [not menacingly] and no amount of explanation would cause anyone but us to understand. Listening to Adrock talk about his man's OD over and over and over and

something about autumn that makes you want to burn at both ends. If you haven't got the canning done by now, there is no point in stressing over it. Enjoy what you can while you can, tomorrow is the war! Or something along those lines. Rimbaud. The white men are landing! The cannon! We must submit ourselves to baptism, put on clothes, work. But we still have this night.

Inside I feel like I'm made of candy corn and woodsmoke hayrides through the country, the amber colored windows eminating warmth and happiness poking into the dark street as you run past, so many microcosms, so many.