breakingpoint.
I woke up at 3 pm and I had been asleep for about forty hours. want to sleep more. I live in austin, dowtown, and I can see the capitol from my porch, with its sterness, its structure. also, the frost building, glass and metal straight up. there is a cigarette glowing between my fingers. four cigarettes glowing between my fingers. I smell coarse. my head is bobbing above me on a thin balloon string. I, me. I, me.
where the leaves part, thick finger-spaces, light dapples down and washes out the yard. girl drives by in sportscar. a missing child notice is caught in the grass, a blank face, have you seen this person? I am crying, hot tears of opalescence that plop in my lap. birds twitter. fat tire. fat tire I am drinking. I am on a revolving planet. caustic, cold. I am sad.
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