The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not. The trade winds blow me, and I do not know where the land is; the waves fold over each other; they are in love with themselves; sleeping in their own skin; and I float over them and I do not know about tomorrow.

Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.

Love your self's self where it lives.

Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.

Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.

life is a trick, life is a kitten in a sack.

I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.