Winter tears the dresses off her trees...

...and lets them burn bare, with a white fire.

Empty days fill my empty eyes with more and more empty. If I had a gas tank you could watch the needle sink. Rain and gray pull the corners of my eyes and mouth down, and everywhere I leave scarlet puddles of sorrow on the floor. These days are sucking at me, too long........ so tired, I need a year of sundays to help me cope with monday. Boo hoo. Just give me a few nights of rest and guitar and paint-splattered pants- days not leaving my house- days I don't have to even bother to put on underwear. Too much to do now, slipping up.
This week:
-a series of false fumblings
-lists dropping from pockets
-A frantic escape to Olympia to hide in an armpit of turkey and cozy family love
-met a puppy
-tried to offer my heart to someone who asked for it, but only pulled shards of porcelain out of the box. I always forget about the breaking...