miss stremple, you oughta be ashamed

want to quit. bad evening, not enough air night, chest in a vice morning, come undone afternoon. pull the plug, call the sanitarium, get me the fuck out of myself already. made an effort. gave it a shot. i need my mother's backyard and a drug cocktail with the power of seven suns.

sitting on the floor with socks in your arms, a big armful, squeezing them into your chest. they compress, smell of soap, comfort. lean your head into the wall and stare at the floor, your boot on its side.

cut an apple. slice carful lines to core it. some seeds fall, halved. put a piece of it in your mouth, feel the sugar slipping into you. a note into a pocket. now, chew. slide to the floor again. cold, hard tiles. finger the broken edge of the chipped one. pull your knees in tight to the body, run you hands up the outside and down the inside of your thighs. grip them. swallow. breathe very slowly. measured breaths, trying to fall out of order. inhales and exhales fight for first. stop. start over.

when you're up you're up, and when you're down you're down...and when you're only halfway up you're neither up nor down. this is ridiculous. nursery rhymes and dust bunnies. future plans to keep sane. list making is a solution when synthesis fails.

(dad says we'll make beer when i get back, he says he's on the trail of a great garage. we have a name. we have honey from the folsom bees in storage. what better use. mom has the notebook, see you in spring. she says, build me some things, but then stick your table in the car and drive somewhere you want to stay. devin wants to visit, buy a ticket already they aren't getting cheaper! hug thirsty, some stranger's gonna get it. there are good things and there are hard things. cyndi says i have a biological problem. thank you. she says she loves trauma. you're welcome and let me tell you some holy shit cyndi, i'm a one woman show, you should just swing by the apt any day of the week. hanna says, you aren't selfish, you have an artistic temperament. platitudes. if only that came with artistic talents. do you see my bad needs. consumer, waster. more lists. if you are not out in the sun by three, you are a monkey's uncle and deserve your bad moods, bad guts, dirty mind.)

things you can do: tell four people how much you love them, make tea, one doc synth. go.