i like the sound of fingers moving across the neck of your guitar: Jan. 22, 2003 (6:51 pm)

i put out what i create. and she lets me read what she writes. and he bangs rhythms on his floor. and she will laugh with me. and he sits me down to read his writing. and he makes me secret mix tapes. and she writes me odes. and he played songs on his guitar before we went to bed.

i am seeing her with him. and thinking of her pleated skirts pushed aside and her fishnet stockings pulled away and her hair covering her face and her eyes closed. and his hands all over and i know they've been all over others and i dont know what she means to him. i dont know what he gives her. besides beer, and the stench of cigarettes in her jacket that i wore on halloween and orgasms.

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