last night i read your letters, and they made me feel one hundred years old
2004-02-21 & 6:14 a.m.

strange how hard it rains now, rows and rows of strange dark clouds, but i'm holding on underneath this shroud

my sleeplessness is revelling in patty griffin and a coffin lounge and gas stations with the only other person up in the building. i wish i had trusted you more, at least enough so you could see me flying when i dream. i would be happy, watching one of the last snowfalls of the year, if i knew i would never see you again. but whenever i turn my head, there you are, your painfully white shirt haunts my ache for one more drink.

i'm driving a stolen car on this pitch black night, telling myself it's going to be alright