Since.

Has it been 10 days in the house? Well, to be frank, the house ain't all bad. Nothing other than chow, franks, and the NBA; sprinkle in my guitar and a few close friends and we can close this deal. "The House" deal, or a.k.a. what I have been doing since I arrived this past Tuesday. I'm hoping to slap some tracks on Mr. Cameron's machine, but I'm waiting for some free time to pop open. All I know is that I will present The Seymour Essays to you, sooner or later, or never, or I hope not, or please don't laugh at me.

Everyone I Know.

What a year we've had.
I'll burn myself for sake,
Of memories you had,
Of papers that you saved,
and threw away.

Of first sight, savvy swoons.
Your skin slips mine past noon.
Of tender lips galore,
these paste white walls hold doors.

I'll blame myself,
just for the sake of this.

Of bedsheet fortress wars.
And stills of late night shows.
To creases made by mouth,
and paceless, epic sounds.

Of falling for the ground.
Of chasing upside down.
A crosstown journey soon,
to Atlantic ocean rooms.

Of buzzing thoughts of you.
To gypsy late night dance.
Of tender breaking glass,
of novel dead romance.

Of rooms without a floor.
Of oceans flooding ours.
To creases made by mouth,
and paceless, epic sounds

Just light the candle my friends. Its worth a view from there.

I bet its nice up there.

To nothing that I know.
Of never going far.
A thread that stays, just one.
A paceless, epic scar.

Hello.

There's a funny taste in my mouth. I wouldn't even call it a taste. More like a feeling, like it's numb.

I'm itchy all over and I can't help it. My eyes seem to be in three places at once. I'm ready to go home.

Good night.