May 10, 2004

I am a pauper lost in a sea of faces gilded in gold - a talentless wench, drowning in filth.

I dream of beautiful things when everything I touch, I break. Chewing on bitterness and the sticks that cut deeper into my flesh, I wait for metaphors to become reality in a room that has no walls.

I have befriended the Sloth.

1, 2, 4, 11, 13 spinning stars fall into my pocket. Make a wish. I breathe in and reach down to find a hole burned into the faded denim pocket � the ruin of something complete.

I wish the stars wouldn�t have fallen away from me.

Now I see them floating downstream on a river of broken promises and dying dreams.

Collapsing stars devour my small world, plunging me into the void.

The void is where I stay.