nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

ee cummings


A free spirit
is a divine
fuck-up

g. corso


i should be asleep. instead i'm up and listening to the rain. which is pretty heavy. just opened the door to the wet and love the smell of the breeze freshened by falling cold water. and i equate that sensation to the sensations of love and desire. why. fuck, it'd be too complicated to parse that one out. it just does. so here i am, almost feeling like a kid again, because these sensations tweak out notions of renewal, which i think is married to love and desire. fleshly feelings strengthened by the quixotic of near-euphoria. for once, it feels good to be alive.