the secret of their works
[32]
sappho
a friend sent me a text message that was a poem. it made me profoundly happy. it just said:
condense the space tomorrow nigh/ for face & orbit do silence defy
i'll interpret this as 'call me tomorrow.'
this month, i am trying to drink less. this is because drinking is all i can think about come afternoon. and yet, it doesn't make me happy.
i guess it's systemic, booze, in everyone i know. we are bored. we are just wanting to push our minds out a little and make them wobble. but i'd rather wobble less.
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