it used to just be certain songs. and i guess maybe ideas, or magazine issue themes. oh yeah and grammatical errors.
now its gone so far that i cant even cut an orange. with out cutting the way you did (do?).
in my efforts to erase, i've embedded.
consciously not thinking is thinking right? i'd ask you but i guess i can't.
you're not the helium balloon that slipped off my little wrist at the carnival all those years ago are you? you're the one that stayed tied tight, and then lost its air slowly over days in my pastel bedroom.
shriveled and sinking, no longer kissing the ceiling. suspended mid height.
no longer shiny.
wrinkled sun-hot plastic.