bobst and a head cold.

i sit on this bed and stare outside at the strange architecture of that building of grandeur, filled with all of the knowledge i'd ever need for these next four years and i wonder when i will ever make use of that grand building or if i ever will before i die or before i leave this place where i feel nothing but empty confusion and trivial desire.


i'm no good and you're no better and the two of us will allow one another to play these games
you will allow me to repeat these scenes over and over
you and i are on the beach and i am running and you stop me and i fall
as i fall you stop me and i wonder what we are doing in this place after all of this time after i convinced myself you were leaving
and you leave, how you leave, and i am left behind
always me left behind the wheel of this sad convertible
but i can't open the windows because the air is so biting it might rip apart my face
you and i will collide and i will release the wheel and you will take it and i will be no good
always no good and you're just no better.