he spoke loudly. His voice was heavy with poutine and I ignored him and kept walking home from the bar I felt removed from but had a good time at. I had thought, it's the funniest thing that I am here and stuck thinking about the things that make me feel bad although they're far away. And this time I'm not even sure of how to run. I had thought I thought and then I left because it was time and I was about to become obnoxious, speaking too loud. Everything seems off. I am on and not doing the right things. I don't understand the feelings I should use to create. Run run run run. Seriously? I am, too easy, once again. And it leaves me without very much.
kelly lynn jones
her work is beautiful, i'm on the ground still dissecting the details
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