ally ally oxen-free

it's just a title.

and this is just a string of words I learned somewhere. put it all together and you have me on a night I didn't drink. but I think I want one.

i haven't touched my journal in days.
a screenplay in weeks.
a poem in months.
a heart in forever.

my phone calls are variations of the holy-trinity:
a mystery, following belief, grasped in despair, demanding faith and without response.

i have no one to call anyway.

i'm glad there are one more weddings. stag is an evil euphemism.

how my dog, who loves me, would react should I die

lying on the floor.

motionless, motion more.

he chews at my softest bits, first in a game.

he relieves me of my skin, the thing he feels i need least?

food.

is there a moment, a definite point in time, when I have no choice but to be ashamed of myself?