I am so sick of looking at this ugly ass blog.  I have too much hair.  I did not get enough sleep last night on account of I can't fucking breathe my nose is all goddamn clogged up.  Ironically, now I can breathe just fine.  I think it's god smiting me because I told him I couldn't believe in him anymore if he made me get my period again.  Dammit.  I can't reach the coffee.  Oh the joys of being sick.

Incidentally, I got a new xanga.  If you want to read it you have to guess what it is.

P.S. This is all a subliminal message that is saying go kill yourselves ass holes becuase I'm sick and can't reach coffee.

P.S.S. I get to meet Bono in 22 days= I wish. However, I do get to be in the same building as he and watch his performance.  

You were the jewel around my neck,

And my words flew so lucidly.

As I ran through fields of morning,

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   Of pink ribbon skies and blood-loving rain.

There, I found loathing and spilling,

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   Empty, winding roads.  Pale white roses

Whose matches were never made.

The sparkling crystal eyes, they dripped,

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   While looking slowly up and down.

No one ever comes, no one ever goes.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   You asked me to dance,

I could.  I stumbled to the floor.

You were the palette.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   Your colors meshed together perfectly, they clashed;

But on the canvas you came out to infinity.

The only sound was your breathing,

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   As I sought my inspiration.

Casting a sideways glance,

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   Touched my hand softly, oh so gently.

What’s real and what is not ceases to exist.

It’s not enough.

Your love was a bird.

You smiled so tenderly, kissed me slowly,

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   And spoke;

“I do not tip my hat at you because you know,

I hold my hand in yours because you don’t.”

A faint glimmer in your universe of flurry,