FHuck dudes, I'm alittle sad and alittle scared. It's Mondee nite and it's never good for me. When it shittes it comes in runs, yeah? Sorry about the nasty mental pic, but dudes, it's thaaat scarybad!

Firstly, it's the official end of summery 'fun': Tommorrah I go back to school. This summer's been nothing but work and work. I dunno what happened in the interim, I don't remember. There was alittle fun, but it felt like the sweetest honeyed nap-dreams of a sultry afternoon. I don't remember the sun as clear, I remember the magenta nights more, and I miss the sun even as it is not yet left. In street terms dudes, I have been schoolin' and workin' and phazing out of it. I need my moment in the sun before it's Fall. I'm scared that summer didn't say 'hi', and just waltz by. I can't stand feeling dumped by her: I CAN'T!

Secondly, the Honors paper is really really alot of life leeching work, don't get me wrong, I love what I am doing... just wondering why it has to hurt so much.... I had street burns and mat burns from concrete surfing and wrestling, but it's just hurt, you know? This feels like life bleedin'. I admit I did do some sort of crazie, I went and purposely got myself hurt, figured I'll go put things in perspective -- it didi and it didn't. My left knee's swollen and I can't flex my knee, so I walk with a swagger like peg-leg pete... freakin 'Pirates of Panzance' shite. I dunno, I need to put things in perspective. It's not only the intellectual language I need to use but the merging of Ancienne Français as well as the mordern Français as well as the Oxford English I am to write it all in. Don't get me wrong, I love my work, but it feels so hard sometimes and tiring.... Oh I fuckin hope Nietzche is right, what doesn't fuckin kill me better fuckin make me stronger, cuz I just got a scholarship for the MAsters Programme and it's just suppose to be this kinda intensity all the way.

Kiss me in the cold
Hold me tight in your light
summer coats in warm-wool sunset
I smell the camomile in your breath
and beeswax on your lips
when u kissed mine
I am dusted with asphalt and the salt in the breeze
rough and brine
and a red backward-baseball cap
and you kiss me
despite the ragged jeans
and my sweat damp T
gently carressing on my white shell choker
summer's honeyed tear is frosting into a coppery scene
scent like tears on barbed metal
estranged light
my board is propped in the narrow hall-
way amidst the calvacade of scattered shoes
sandals forlorned
for Van sneakers a step and a half away
Bikers still stubborn on the highway outside
grumbling past on thunder-loud speeds
chasing your skirts as you retreat from us all.

Man, I gotta kiss her before she goes
I can't wait six months before I see her again
I miss her
I love her
does she knows my heart's breaking?
My black cable knit sweater is calling,
like a cool drinking buddy holding out a shot of sours
"yeah fucks" like sour in the mouth and
then going down the throat burning bitter
arsonry in the stormach
spreads out a mesh of searing veins from the guts.

so, how do I hold my insides in,
when she's bent on tearing it all out?