e+mail
diary+land
+"I love the smell of napalm in the morning..."+
+09.24.03
+ 3:49 p.m.
+
:the ghost of you haunts me still. the shadows move across the pavement and everything is veiled in regret. you sang to me in the middle of the night as the rain rolled off the hood of your truck, your hands tangled in my hair and whisky on your lips. i couldn't stop crying. i thought that somehow it would all be okay. it's not.
you could have been anything to anyone.
somebody's hero
somebody's failure:
9/12/03