Good evening, sweet prince

And then I was all alone, all alone, after a solitary text. Night over.

Isn't it funny how we get obsessed by texts, emails, facebook etc, but really a phone call could mean so much but it's getting the courage to do it. Sometimes the call is a minute, 5 seconds or even an hour. Then after that it's back to the texts and facebook chatter and emotion, which is really all 1s and 0s in binary, whereas the words are real and breathing in a conversation.

Oh my goodness there's no end to what i'm thinking right now, and you won't understand cause you can't, and there's been death and drunkeness and a broken tea cup that sat collecting dust on the dresser.

I'd like to get away, go North, and just stay in some library reading, and a girl brings me tea, and rests her head on my shoulder, then we ride home on bicycles, but I don't have one, so she goes ahead, and I walk, then it rains, and when I walk through the front door wet through she's gone. Where? God only knows. He only knows what i'd be with her, cause only God has that power, i'd never see it. Then I cry.

Scooters, holidays, autumn...label this post? Nothing strong enough. Leonard Cohen has been playing constantly for days, and i've started smoking again, and fag ends in egg yolks, cold tea and bread crusts.

And now they're all offline, and it's late, but i'm still smashing the keys down, and a tear