Listening to: Henri Salvador - Chambre avec vue You know it's not your school anymore when 3/4 of the faces are of strangers picked up from random truck stops. It's as if the whole world is trying to excise you the moment you finally find a ball of yarn to grasp on. Here in Ohio the snow looks metallic under the orange glow of lamps that imitate Sherlock's London street accessories. It's pristine white snow against green pine trees, and the ground never turns slushy brown because it's earth as it is meant to be. I guess this will be my last winter in Ohio. I guess when next year comes, wherever I will be, the snow willbe less idyllic, the sky less clear, the love more complicated.
I guess I'm saying goodbye before it ends. I wanted to escape the moment I got here, and here I am reminiscing before I even leave. Irony? I'm sorry I lose. I'm sorry I'm a fighter with a forked tongue, biting, flinching and running out. I'm glad you smile like there's no reason not to, like mouths were made to smile, to carouse, to sing, to kiss. A mouth is a thousand vitriolic verbs burning spades on my skin, and it's a thousand words unspoken in fear of fear. But you my little love, you. are. great., greater than all the adjectives men have mused on me, suckle on carbonated French water, Sushi and snails of worldly cuisine, New York fashion and Japanese soirée.
I'm still ready to get out of here, but, it's good better to frolic away than flee. Don't you think?