The End of November.

I live a vacant life.
That people pass through,
like waves.

They always come and go
but I...
somehow always stay.

So I expect nothing from you,
Or anybody else.
You are just a wave.

down

"it is nice,
to have someone.
to talk to."

sometimes.

and then she said, "what?"
it hurt.
that was my last try.

Druggie Makeup

So this ended up being a cross between a dead girl and some strung-out opium addict look. It was fun.