Throwing candy out to the crowd. I want to see all of their colors. I want to fall into the spray of them. I feel there is a cure there, somewhere, in the warmth and wet.

I now know my words won’t make you love me.

But I will keep trying because every wall in the world is made for repeating bursts of my head.

The blood is still no consolation. Can you believe that?

When we finally go out for coffee it will be uneventful. My hands will still tremble because that’s what they do when they get close to the truth.

Uneventful means, ‘not what I need it to be’ and, ‘not as good as I hoped it would be’.

I don’t know where to put my punctuation.

I know that no matter how cute I would be or how pretty you thought I was, you wouldn’t reach across to touch my face.

If all I want is lying beside you and you not wanting that moment to stop, even with more than enough clothes on, is that not such a small wish that could be granted?

I bought lollipops for strangers once.

I told an ugly girl she had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen.

I get things off of high shelves for short old ladies.

Why can’t I get granted a fucking wish?

I am hiding from my gardener now. He is mean and brown.