Journal Entry, 9/29

I've opened you up. And here you are--

like yesteryears and better days. It grips me--here--to take that glimpse back to when my roof was...my father's (although, really a third this is as well).

Anywho, a sick shudder flows through me; only a few years back...

Was it really?

A few crazy philosopsyfantasistics derived a clever thought: Nostalgia is as pure and true as a mild case of depression.

How utterly fucking right you are--sir.

In Time
I'll see, the Lime
The Breeze
In Scent, In Lips
Of Blood
Of Kiss:
Signed your masobliss of latter chists saints and wine.