Ideas and desires curl and nest inside of me. Some days and some better nights, i get to let them uncoil and rampage through the landscape of my life. There are so many things i want to say, want to write, want to paint, want to feel under my hands and taste in my mouth.

But tonight nothing is coming to me. I know there are these things i’ve wanted to express for a while, letters i want to write but when i try to make them coherent, they disappear. I desire curves and softness and conversation but my room is empty, my bed unmade.

And now the clock is looking at me in that way that says my day is over whether i like it or not and so i go to put myself and these ideas and desires to bed and try to write something coherent tomorrow.