You come to me with excuses - tucked out in the road. You wear me out. You wear me out.
Self-help. Self-pain. Psychics. Fuck off. I was central. I was in control.
Jay from Athens (my first of two younger lovers) taught me of m. stipe's poet abilities.
Buddy is fucking Francis again (jayne's dogs). Francis will eat either of their shit. Oddly, I still love them.
It's crazy what you could have had. I need this.
I often quote lyrics to you. Sometimes, I wonder if there is one person that is 'with me' on it. I speak in lyrics. Mike always was there. He gets it every time. I believe we know the same songs. We are poet quoters in that respect.
So, I have a man. I have lost a man. I may not have any man. This new man gives me no adoration at all. He is standoffish, but I can choose to interpret it as fright and longing.
I am playing it as it lays. I am waiting to get my comeuppence. I am due, so I will give it to myself.
I'm a silly fraud. But I want it all. I want everything.
This weekend will be the mark and kristen goodbye and stuff settling. We are going to hire lawyer and get the shit going. Is it strange that I feel nothing? It feels like that world - that apartment - those cats were years ago.
Mark says I always do this. He says I am a pattern repeater, and I am going to the previous pattern of dumping kent for him - but yet I am doing it to him. You understand his reasoning don't you?