i didn't really watch you drink your tea this afternoon. i hardly remember the meeting at all. not now in my wine stupor. as usual i have no idea what i do want only what i do not. no that is a lie i know i want something that probally does not exist, except in novels and films and my own imagination. how silly it all is, but if i'm not going to be happy till i find all these sparkling lively images, then why should i pretend that they are what they are not when i try to belong to you. and not just you but to everybody. i try to rack my mind to find a time in which i feel free. free enough to feel anything that isn't this disgusting second hand raggamuffin vomit. its sometimes when i drink the coffee in the morning and fade into its nostalgia for a moment, or when i first get out into the fog in the city and begin a potential adventure as the gate clicks behind me with a horrible clankity clank clank. and then if i'm lucky enough the best of all that feeling of a wallflower at the party where the guests are always the same and i drink without a climax only this sadness remembering everyone i've already lost in my memory. and knowing that the closest i've probally come to a wonderful thing was my childhood dog, the ice cream my grandfather used to buy me, and a hot summer night laying on the front porch with my sister. those were the last real things i knew. the rest i've just drawn in.