south of market

my moms quitting smoking and it makes her more demanding. i love hearing the stories.. still we're the same.
the man i love i feel should be the same as me. as we walk down the street well have the same taste, the same ears, ringing in them something un constitutional it wont stop. ill run around wearing his same old puke stained shirt. the one i spat on as i was draining down the ditch. he'll wear those same old pants with that same old smirk and all along ill never get tired. and on well go....

all I'm thinking about right now is rice pudding and the attraction it has to my soul. he has a recipe that i cant resist. I'm almost feeling great except i cant stop recalling the ditch of doom. yesterday i was falling down a mountain. without recollection I'm glad i had a board mask and boots. the ride was even more exciting. because i was just sitting. and what can be more fun. leafing around that is.
some get better with instinctual skill and others rent out books.