Wandering from love to love, this world is full of lonely people, a field of hungry mouths gaping and blank eyes like canceled checks. Yawning, gasping NEED greed supersede superimposed testament to the path less traveled; the one my boots are walking. I float five inches from the ground, the better to look down my perfect nose at an overfilled datebook although I never seem to go on dates these lonesome days.
I ignore the phone when it rings but I place calls. I think about you, Michael, but I don't call. You wouldn't answer any more than I do. Hard to be less than nothing, easy to be something. Excellence is simplest of all, small in the editing. A tinny voice picks up the other end of a disconnected line. My disjointed voice arranges syllables to the effect that I'll put my body on a blue streak to a sleepy Southern town in a flat week. Irritatedly confused buzz demands to know why I'd DO that. As if going home were the strangest thing this girl could ever dream up...
I doubt my state of mind and forget my state of being. I am unsure of my physical location and do not discuss my home base. I am melting away into unreality. Schism. Back brain on the front burner, this is my life on sobriety. I don't like it very much but it's too early for a drink-one's mother would be mortified to find one being less than polite. You know.
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