this house is crammed with piles of furniture, with white
tarps over them like monstrous holloween ghosts. the walls
have been repainted stark white, the curtains down from the
windows so now they stare like black, empty eyes. eighteen
years packed into boxes, covered with magazine pictures and
wallpaper scraps. the whole place looks completely unlived
im covered in goosebumps and i'm sniffling. i can't wait to
get the fuck out of here, get some coffee. my car sits dead
in the driveway, completely useless, covered in leaves and
faded stickers and rust. i miss driving. i miss
doing "nofie and alyssa stuff" where we drove around town,
made our rounds, listened to music and drove over the dip
on nesconset highway repeatedly just because it was fun.
nothing compares to you.
i love living in the city, it sucks and its bleak and
everything smells faintly of warm piss but i love living in
the city!! this is the new anthem for the death of the twin
towers. people dying on the street..."but i love living in
"i wanna tell you whats on my mind, and i wanna bill you
for wasted time, and wasted cigarettes that quenched your
fix, and wasted spit i left there upon your lips...now i
sit and talk to an empty chair and think up ways i
should've told you to fuck off..."