if i wake up tomorrow and my throat is still sore it’s only going to be my own fault.
all day every day every hour. wuteva.
sweet coat sweet care package sweet cash sweet life
figuring out my life, sort of.
everything i want to buy is always so expensive.
having a hard time.
living alone gets lonely fast.
in other news i have the lsats on saturday morning and i don’t know what i’m doing.
OH GREAT I WROTE MY PAPER AND THOUGHT IT CAME OUT PRETTY WELL.
THEN BECAUSE I’M DUMB I DELETED IT WITHOUT SAVING.
I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.
I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.
Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.