Oh, after midnight already, I'm sorry I'll have to be turning in soon, I'm terribly exhausted and my head is tilting downward these days as it is. And I'm sad, like real deep sad that I didn't know was still there, just something new kicking up all that sentiment that sunk to the bottom. So long sweetheart, guess I played another one all wrong.
A bottle of wine and some strange ideas that I can't quite flesh out, some crazy ideas about daring myself to try and get my nerve back. All the pretty lights glowing outside and the urge to flee wash over me like some warm childhood blanket. I want to move into Evan Toth's attic for the winter with a carton of cigarettes, a case of wine, seven reams of paper and an electric typewriter and get myself out of my system while I watch the snow stick to the gray Paterson landscape. I want to lock myself in and exorcise all this crazy so that it doesn't hit me out of nowhere. I want to stop thinking I'm past all this before I get smashed in the side of the head with it again. I want to go dark for the winter and come back new and adjusted in time for spring. No more crazy whims about hopping a train in the middle of the night for somewhere that will make everything seem normal and quiet and still and sane. Nowhere is far enough and I'm just trying to wait out the clock until the odds catch up with me. Either love or death, happiness or some new misery that will change anything. But that's all kind of sick and twisted and I forgot what the hell I was really trying to say and my thoughts weigh a thousand pounds right now and my eyes are betraying me. So off to bed and hope that maybe tomorrow my mind is quiet and my aim is better.