good day

a language that i’m too involved in, a language that i’ll never understand.

i am drunk, i shall admit that much. the extent of my revelations may well stop there. however, it depends on the elasticity and determination of my hand. it takes a life of its own at this juncture. it is not put off by the intermittent noises off the street, the fascination with the way these words are forming, the thoughts of you (always the thoughts of you).

a glance towards the computer. it makes all the difference. it is the conversion of private thought into public exorcism. it matters not who reads it (i know their names), it is an indication unto itself.

it might be confidence.