I woke up drunk. A little drunk, but drunk nonetheless. We went to C's birthday party last night - it started to slide out of control when the party downstairs begun to bubble up to the top floor. Bottle(s) were smashed, and the treehouse was on its way to being defiled. L and I took off and I got oh so teary eyed at the enormity and beauty of the world on the bus, then shuffled my sorry butt into bed. Wrote this poem at the top of my staircase sipping tea last night:
man
I've heard that word
it becomes a lake of lights
floating on the surface of our
being, of our inability to die
when we tear our bars
away away how our sunken
poems clear-eyed girls walk
away from
my mouth is open
filled with crows
when your hands
fall on your thighs
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A Diary
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