i pulled back the hood and i was talking to you
2004-07-16 & 8:05 a.m.

and i'm down to your last cigarette and this "we are one" crap as you're invading this things you call love - she smiles way too much

uneasily, time is flying. i do not believe in time, and yet, there are restrictions which harbor such a non-belief. impending loan payments, a much-too-adult thing called bills, jobs. what if i baked brownies for them all instead of sending cash? or i could write them letters, make them mixes. what's all the hype with a random green piece of paper anyway?

i'm about to stick out my thumb, hitch a ride and say, carry me away. i don't believe it's running away; as long as you love what it is, you're running towards.

when, for years, you have held yourself back on the basis of something you used to think of as love, it's okay to smoke your last cigarette, spend your last dollar on a postcard, hold your own hand on the moon.