11:20 a.m

Standing at work trying to sing, and I realize you can sing anything you wanted to.
Like, you can sing ANYTHING and it would sound amazing. I thought it was really great that I know someone with real talent. Raw, like meat that never rots. You're like a little song bird. Song bird that never stops singing. Never gives up, lives only for the ecstasy, the passion. You are a paradox for a little-bitty bird and you fly higher. Songbird Jenna, Tina Toucan. Two... Can. Two... Will Accomplish. Two... Has Accomplished

11:45 a.m

Two.
Two is a number greater than zero and greater than one, and only those as far as positives go. Two is a choice, a lifestyle and a poem. Two make love, Two destroys love, Two runs the world. Some say One is enough and Zero is too little. One can't laugh sincerely without the help of another One. One... plus One... Two.
Two can gaze, can touch, can kiss.
Two can cry, can sigh, can die... but together. Death for Two is only a table set with beautiful dishes and silverware.
Death, a preparation for Two to be what they are, and only that. Two is only a number. A positive integer, a simple, subtle equation.
Simple, yet complex... Complex in the sense that the road is endless, possibilities a bottomless pit.
You see, one can only do so much, so little. Two can do more than One, even while doing nothing at all.
Two can be, or not to be... Without question, without doubt.
Two can make three... four... five... more, less, left, right, up, down.
Moans, sighs, harmonizing symphony under twisted sheets. Twisted Ones. Two can make one, Two can BE one.
Two is infinite.
Two creates life.
Two is an introduction.
Two is a conclusion.

12:00 p.m

I'm on a ramble today, shambles flow from my pen. Red pen, silk pen, pig pen.
Red flowing, a burden I lack.
A burden I need, no food in my system, dry bones.
No burden, flowing reckless to destroy my favorite jeans.
No burden, no pain, no eggs, no life.
Solemn happiness, a secret smirk.
No shame, no shame.
See here young one... my bones are light, muscles eat themselves for nutrients.
The lack of fat.
No fat, no fat.
See here, I'm dying.
I'm withering from my stomach out.
Dry like a desert, I blow away.
I blow away.
See here young one, I'm blowing away.

12:30 p.m

I'm just a cashier at a hardware store. Jenae and I talk.
We talk about living in musical bubbles.
What if you vomit in the bubble, and it turns into a miraculous cheeseburger?
Would you eat it? She would, I wouldn't. I don't eat junk food.
What is the Vegan life life?
Could I do it?
Would I fail?
I want love to find me, I want love to kiss, hold and hurt me.
I want to hurt to know I love.
Chest tight, age old feeling that I've not had in a year.
Is love biodegradable like a heart?
Is love learned?
We all say we love someone-something.
I've loved once. I say I hate her as much as I love her, but it's an illusion. I couldn't ever hate her. I wish I could, but not that often anymore. We went through hell and back with each other.
We didn't fight til it was over, even then it wasn't really fighting.
I could write a book about us.
It would be sad... cliche'.
All couples say they are unique, unlike any others.
"We are different, we are special."
We are all Jack's ex girlfriend or Janet's ex boyfriend.
She is the hair in my eyes and the dead skin on my lip that I've got to bite off.
She was my first and last thought, but now she's a drifting presence, omnipresent and constant.
I failed to love her as a lover, and her new girl has already done what I couldn't. It made my heart light, it made my lips curve. I am happy. She's in love, her heart sets flight once again.
I will never have her again. I like it that way. Side by side, not hand in hand. Our time was a year, and it's been a year since it ended.
She's my best friend, and I wouldn't have her more or less. I love her, and she loves me too.

Like all stories go, The End.