Such is romance, people.

A Word to Word copy of my journal Entry at 12:55AM, Monday.

Have you ever been afraid of writing poetry or an article while you are at your home ? Maybe cuz it gives you a sense of connection to all the art haters in your house ?
When the shadow of the trees grows so dark that it looks like a little night was born there for a moment with chickenpox of day that pierces through the leaves of tree. Day reeks of soil and smoke, sky is tanned from too much earth exposure and I stand between them as a warm little bag of life.

“New York Herald Tribune” I repeat in my dream, “Will you go to Rome with me ?” No ? Why not ? “Because you peed in my washbasin and I could not brush my teeth this morning. Oh, sorry. I forgot the I wasn’t home, m’lady. I’ve got real news for you though my Love, My father is going to kill me tonight so the washbasin in all Yours.

Oh No Why ? Can’t you run away from him or so so ? “I can Bu-t”

Uh-oh my Tribune is here, can we talk about your father and murder later ? Sure, my love. I will go clean the washbasin. “Listen, Don’t drink from that cup I might have been a little too drunk last night. “Sure”

Sun crawled up in the sky and The little night below the tree die before it could mature into a rebellious teenight, So we moved to our building which was built right above the City’s nastiest Homeless Shelter, We paid the rent but we all peed in the washbasin. So Similar so cute.

She pushed into the elevator and closed it, It pulled me up and she ran along the stairs like I was the sun and she was my cute little Pluto. She ran along the elevator on the circular upwards staircase, she smiled looking at me but frowned at the floor, maybe I was her only sun. I got tired after this so there is nothing else to copy from my journal.