no time

May 9, 2007

I have twenty minutes to write to you all. It’s spitting rain (what ‘it’ is spitting? A sky chav?), that fine kind that wants to ease itself into mist and shrug off the doom of splashing on pavements. I have thirteen minutes left. Will McDonalds really give the money to charity? Everyone on these streets looks complete, but only at first glance;their faces are scribbled with shadowmaps, the whys of their wheres. She looks away from her friend on the top of the bus and recoils, so quick she does not see herself doing so. Seven minutes. Now six. I mix her dark hair with rain and make ink. ‘This’, she is saying. ‘This. What does it still want with me?’. Three minutes. Two minutes. Now I have the urge to count in seconds, like the individual bodies of raindrops.



Hey everyone. I’m currently without an internet connection which is why I haven’t been around on WordPress recently, but I haven’t forgotten you, or me, or anything else that is endless or otherwise. I will be back very soon and I miss you like patches of sky.

Must go, I’m at a friend’s and must be entertained by him. Seeya.