March.

i write about mice and degenerating brains and think ifeel my own explode. Are my neurons decaying? i can feel the corticoids being secreted into my blood.
How is it so late? the clock ticks, the world turns and soon i leave. its night time and the world is very quiet. is anybody there? and if they are; would they like to find a flat with me please? why am i here again. i thougth id gone somewhere else, i really did. i thought i was somebody else now.

i am i think i think. ll go eat pineapple and sweeties and kiss my boy goodnight and good morning again and maybe the world will brighten up by thursday for coffee and the dancing girls in that old fairytale.

the sun shone right earlier you know and its not so cold as it could be really. even in these latitudes. its certainly not so chilling as down south. so ill peer through my binoculars a while longer. see how long it takes to analyse a blackbird on a lawn. not so hard, surely, as a life or a comment from a friend that makes you wonder if your falling back to back to back to back we stand. ill probably fall over first you know.

the heels are too high. like stakes. but the boots were so pretty i couldnt resist even if ill never manage to last this out. ow.