sometimes, i forget what i am saying, and i have to go back and try to say it all over again. like, i just had a cup of coffee at 11:45 on a weekday sun shining afternoon. and everyone is asleep in the house. like i wish that there was more time for me and you and me. and. you. and so on. you know. things like that. i remember, once, that i wrote a thing about how things take time. back when i was more melancholy-strange. more deliberately intoxicated.

sometimes, i think about how i could have easily ended up living like a recluse in a shed on the back of my mother's private property. next to the christmas tree farm. with my mini-fridge and all my bills paid. then, i wonder, what i might have had to say. if i would have stopped combing my hair. taken to wearing semi-sheer-white-nightgowns and wandering around the muddy grounds barefoot and babbling. our wounds. and ghosts. if onlys. and thank.the.fucking.gods. never-nightmares.

then, i am here. where the sun shines. and everyone is asleep in the house. in the lush afternoon haze of a life i am living.