Sweep it away

I want it gone. All my clothes, my books, my sheets and blankets and socks and cups and pills and puzzle pieces and apple juice bottles and towels. The rugs and shoes blow them out the door with my coats and sweaters and papers and pens. Everything rots and the only good is outside the sunshine the dogs barking the airplanes flying over. Today I hate tea and eggs and toast and my bed. I lied about sleep the fucker went away and I'm feeling bleak house without the charm. Yes it will pass. I want to live in a pink quiet wind tunnel of fresh smells and seashells and pine cones and Boulder sunshine. When I was growing up in Boulder we used to drive up into the mountains all the time to go to picnics at Chautauqua Park or Flagstaff or the Flatirons and the ground was always a reddish granity hard surface. You would run out and find your own special tree and smell the bark. Pinetrees to us small children smelled like either chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla. You had to test each one. They really did smell like it. My favorite was a strawberry smelling pine tree. I want that now.

I woke at 11 pm. The core of me was starving for something. I tried to Donnie Darko a round apple juice out of the fridge floating up the stairs to my throat but it did not come. I tried again at 1:15 and 2:34, I just could not get my own body to get up. At 5 I hoped for light - thinking the protons would help raise me, but they did not buoy my arms. I feel ultra pathetic and do not revel in that. At 9:30 I got my wish and feel less dead now. I am liquid and need so much liquid it's a liquid nightmare for me that I despise.

I shall endeavor to be more friendly tomorrow. Don't need anything but time. You're/I am putting up with me.