"supermarket in my head"
so i'm still alive. just haven't had the desire to write. oh, i've written. heaps of papers for heaps of classes. i've written in my paper journal too, about metallic jellyfish and weird jealousies and not sleeping. but i don't have time to think on anything artistic or nice to say.and now i have a cold, because of the not sleeping and not eating right and blah. i'm proud of my work, but it's still not good enough, and i have so much left to do before i'm done.
i need caring. i need a mommy. i just need my own personal Ugin who will cater to my Millay-like needs, making sure i eat and sleep and work and still have time to write poetry. some one needs to bio him, cause i don't know what he got out of the deal except for possession. but possession like a bird without clipped wings, that you let fly off and then fuss at the sky, wanting it to come back so you can pet it again.
i like when i drop everything to help him. dammit, i do. i just want the same treatment, but of course just the way i want it, though i don't know if i do it how he wants it.
i'm eating gnocci tonight, yes. even if my nose runs all over it.
