"You're not a good person."
 let me slip you out of your skin, sweetheart
She chews her lip until it bleeds. Not for the pain (some say, Ah There is nothing to make you feel alive
like a little Pain) Not for the blood (some are, ah Fixated with the thick water
the Ancestry-Maker the
I Love You) but For The ah she does it out of nervousness or absentmindedness simply her brain cannot(rather,willnot process anymore and so resorts to distracting itself with the pain,theblood
 drop cookies salvage art retro virus paper machine
"I love this stuff," she faces away from me, admiring with an extended hand
what is even farther past her, my collection of tangled ropes I salvaged from the beach post-storm. Not all untangled, and mostly hanging to dry, or for aesthetic
purposes, the ropes have been hung so that I may watch them collect the afternoon as the orange fades out in rectangles on the walls.
 Gravity's Rainbow is a book about rockets.
i am reading her diary. she would kill me
. she hates my writing, but i can't get enough of hers so i find her most secret journal and read it while she is at work or walking the dog
. "how am i supposed to understand this" she says things like this to me "there aren't any punctuation marks there is no breath how can i read it aloud as all poems should be read." i have excuses though and i always enumerate them for her
 And her words became the stars,
"Seven thirty two, taxi in position." "Seventy two one six, we are up and ready." "Seven thirty two, acknowledged. Proceed."