I wonder if you are the clockmaker: 24 October 2011
I need this journal. I need my own words breathless and sparked and nonsensical and hurtful and published and worrisome and anxious and the death urges. My anemic emotional handwriting that may not be my own, alone. No right, no…
The way he walks: 12 de mayo de 2015
We walked around the city last night after smoking paraguayo, which still had an earthy, thick smell of real marihuana, and the whole time all I could think about was the way he walks and what it says about his…
He comes to visit me at five in the morning: 26 de diciembre de 2014
He comes to visit me at five in the morning, he sits on the couch and I lay with my head in his lap, his fingers tracing lines, searching. We are silent, and it feels so nice to have someone…