i don't really feel like my mind has reconnected to my body.
writing every day proved to be lame. maybe that will change now that i am no longer ill and bedridden and able to frolic about the pavemented streets. but only after work. deep sigh. a desire to start painting again and a need for more literature. i say this often and never act on it. this irritates me. i am going to buy myself a new camera this weekend, so i can take better pictures and document more inspirations. stare at the golden roots growing on the base my skull. think about returning to the natural gold hair. dreaming about the hot air balloon under my skin. red lips, bare eyes, orange walls, too many patterns.
i want a hand full of babies breath.
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