piracy

from the notebook:

standing in the stream with the boy, in the dusk.

the ridges rippling reflection, and the fucking parallax


vanilla
+maple syrup
+dickel
+fresh snow
= snow cream
=omfing-g


the boy, the baby, he sees things i dont.

i can't remember a total lack of preconceptions.

when he wakes up screaming in the night, it could be a bad dream, it could be gas, or it could be the ghosts i've been trained not to see.



when you've lost something, try and remember where you were when you got stoned.