nameless bus on a nameless street in a nameless city: the city.

on a hill, on an island- mount royal

you will know it when you feel it :: montreal, quebec

It's ten thirty-five- I'm late.

The morning breeze makes me feel

too prepared

with this sweater-y, wintery mindset that I never fell out off. Break

out the light clothes! It's so warm

today, it's springtime; and I still wear my winter coat:

as to not be caught off guard while

walking over to your apartment.

Up late- again riding out the night,

and why cant you just really act.

Sit. you, sit.

Stress pimples my face in

purple pain and the only thing I really know 

I will be with in the morning is

twenty ounces of

black gold as I fuel the empire with

gasoline- killing birds and killing us all.