2005-01-22 - 2:22 a.m.
"I'm you're only friend, I'm not your only friend..."
Dig dug used to pump bad guys full of air until they popped, or dropped rocks on them. Really really late at night. Except in black and white. Like now, but more hopeful, more scared, with more of that general yet generic default kind of love that little kids get. Under the bed is still a tumultuous wasteland. Inside still crazy hot bubbles fit to cook mac and cheese, rage with an occasional focus, a tease of crystalization.
To be free, you have to leave something behind. To be born, you have to learn to breathe a new way, and it hurts, and it's wet. only it was all the time and you didn't know it.
Break down, mutate, recreate. I know I haven't found her yet. Everyone drives me crazy, sooner or later. And I drive back. And I need to be alone a lot. And I wonder if I can break free again. Because that's where it all is. Outside this place. This place I can never come back to.
If I smoked, I would right now.
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