i’m going to italy

18Apr08

and i’m going to do lots of this:

and some of this too:

i think i’m running away from something. i’m in the middle of it now. i hope there is quiet and i hope my shoulder wont burn, my knee wont ache, and my sternum wont crack. running away from the breath of familiarity is a hot bath and a set of knuckles pressing into the muscles. people throw me into apathy, set me down into the numb. did you notice that. not an ounce of sadness, no anger. there are no weapons. there are no teeth.

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