the mortar and pestle department
2007-03-24 3:06 a.m.

tonight was a night that started okay and then got great and then got weird, but i think it's okay?

i don't usually smoke with women. i usually smoke with men, and i usually think about unzipping them.

holy god, i didn't mean to type that! i don't think i have my phone.

i'm not gross, i'm not curled pencil shavings, i'm not a drip of acid.

oh! meg and lee are so beautiful! these dark wisps.

paint strokes

i'm a smashed clay sculpture, lumps of plaster. i am made of rougher materials, i am a fifty fifty chance, i'm a genetically acquired taste, i'm soapy to some--like cilantro, i turn your mouth inside out.

i'm a PTC taste test to your folded taco tongue.

i'm a car crash.

my heart is full of coral reef. i soak. i'm a mosquito. the wind pushes me.

i AM curled, i AM bent, my joints leak lime-colored lust on the floor while i scream and scratch my nails. the degree to which i am unsatisfied is crippling.

i should know better than to listen to lauryn hill's "tell him" while looking at pictures of exes and nevers.

(as in: oh, look at this pic of me and my ex-boyfriend. and here's a letter from my never-boyfriend)

i have so many nevers! so many couldofs, dozens of got-aways, hundreds of i-had-hopeds. one or two yeah-rights.