CLOSENESS. now a mess.
"sloan" you say "sloan" (the name?) you moan, capture the light, christ. fuck me like it's your job: THE WINTER. is cold and there are too many poems about seasons, especially ones that i have written: COMPOSED. i am so fucking discomposed. christ. capture the light. you try to be enlightened but lord, you are so frightened of cliches.: why don't you just come back under the covers with me?