finity

i feel splitshattered like i don't know where to go. i am that stevie wonder album, talking book. i'm bad at being a real person. (lately i've been analyzing myself as if i were a character in shakespeare... 'lady macbeth's fatal flaw...')
if satan used instant messenger, his password would be 'anxiety.'
my eyes are dry, & i still haven't found anything to sing.

i want to:
write a scene in which some death occurs while "witchy woman" by the eagles plays in the background.
eat several chicken salad sandwiches, complete with avacado slices.
go out for a fancy dinner and wear armani cologne (yeah, so i'm a girl, so what).
go shopping. a lot.
watch 'goldfinger.' and 'fargo.'
go to the art museum.


me and sabrina, we was like peas and mashed potatoes.