journal 0003
feet, finally crippled for a moment in a tub of restfully warm water. i can feel the edges of my teeth again. i hold the pencil to my nose and inhale the wooden particles. i am reminded of a simpler time, when i was a backwards child. too smart, too weird. dark auditoriums and hands felt in the dark. classrooms with books for homes. i would steal them away, stories as kindling. i am not far away from that time.