phones buzzing like a wounded hummingbird littered with buckshot that struggles to hover over the firm earth that lies two feet below its collapsing frame. late evening lonely nights of rejecting phone calls like women do those nice guys who want nothing more than to be that bad boy who tends to get those very same women. thursday nights in front of the computer screen that glows like the mercury emitted from blown light bulbs that at one time illuminated the room in which i write this. photos of those past dalliances that tend to dance through the infinite space of the web like woodland fairies on crystal meth crashing clumsily into my view with such regularity that i feel as if i have set traps for them unbeknown to myself. and all i want to do is sleep like gaia and eat like the cat and pray like my grandparents and love like my nieces and nephew and parents and be proud like my sister and sing like tom waits. but mostly just sleep.