i don’t know what you’re all seeing because my dash is pretty much that one picture of chord overstreet in eye-meltingly ugly yellow suitwear
Rolling in the money (monies)
Getting lots of honeys (honeys)
We know who you are, we’ve heard all about you, but hearing is one thing.
sandwiches, like diamonds, are forever
There are not enough faces. Your own gapes back
at you on someone else, but paler, then the moment
when you see the next one and forget yourself.
It must be the dreams that make us different, must be
private cells inside a common skull.
One has the others look and has another memory.
Despair stares out from tube trains at itself
running on the platform for the closing door. Everyone
you meet is telling wordless barefaced truths.
Sometimes the crowd yields one you put a name to,
snapping fiction into fact. Mostly your lover passes
in the rain and does not know you when you speak.
going through my blog’s ship tags just reduces me to gigglesnorting over my own hilarity
at least i can amuse myself, if nothing else
"no i wan swimming"