day two hundred and six.

i realized afterwards
that i could help
but does that make
my character
very helpful?

day two hundred and five.

a silent stuck up
match
of eating
between a mother
and her gorgeous
daughter
each trying to seem
more disinterested
than the next
as if they've seen it all
so they most certainly
don't need to see
you.

day two hundred and four.

sometimes things are so half beautiful
that you don't want to write about them
and ruin them
with a half assed memory.

day two hundred and three.

sitting in the rain
on a bench in front
of a lake
in a part of the city
i don't know much about
chomping on left over
spring rolls
thrown into a
paper doggy bag
and
pouring more vodka into
my disguised pop
and waiting in the silence
that good music can
sometimes bring
i wait for the friends
of which half
or three quarters
i am excited to see.

day two hundred and two.

the confusion
that ensues
through simple
clear text messages
i shall never understand -
it's just too confusing.

day two hundred and one.

he says he's
too old
to start over,
he's married
he needs the money
because he's too old
and married.
he needs to be miserable
because he's old
and married.

day two hundred.

at medieval times,
i'm getting my
5$ worth
for that
peasant's
glass of wine.