sketchbook.

'sometimes to sleep im staring at walls.
i like staying awake
until i sleep better.
staying awake until my eyes shut without me knowing.

until i wake with a start
and realize i was drooling
and how great my sleep was.'


'there are so many to stare at
so many walls
and they're all the same.
but they're all i can look in the eye.

staring at walls and staring at walls.'

i wrote that.
i wrote it on the ugliest painting i've ever done but walls aren't pretty.


i wrote it as i asked you if being a writer meant being crazy.
as i explained to you that writing was like taking a photograph.
taking a photograph of lots of people in front of a beautiful landscape.
only in this photograph you have to make each individual person.
you have to build them from scratch and design each personality.
you also have to make the landscape.
you have to find some dirt and grow these trees and make every living thing
that crosses your eye.
writing drains.
writing drains because it creates.
because you give up these pieces of you.
you give them up to make something better until there's nothing left.

'snippets.
snippets of this.
snippets of that.
snippets of you.
snippets of me.

bits and pieces.
of you.
and of me.
and of us.'


i wrote that too.

i wrote that before you snuck out.


i wrote that when i knew i loved you but all that was left
was a bit and a piece.
when i knew writing was all that would hold these snippets together.










writing is horse feet.

its glue.