From a notebook I bought in France...

via

weary, like the green almost white pages of an old paperback

 I cook well, only out of spite.

 "I feel like you expect me to have certain reactions, and worry when I don't."

 of again, oak sky.

 flisket, sproal, zant

 Oh, I said, poor David. I told him he was the perfect person.

 "Some secret place where good ideas floated around leaves in autumn."

 We woke up, stuck to each other like postage stamps. Unpleasant, un-erotic, very postage-like indeed.

The classroom air clung to my hair in hot, sticky waves of art student odor, all gum erasers and sweat. "Yum, B.O.," she joked. I'd never met her before. "I need a backpack," I mumbled as I groped in my pockets for gum.

I'm almost offended when someone has the same name as I do.

I wish I loved you as much as you wish I did.

Even furious delight is beautiful. Rage exploding and skipping across the surface of your skin.

concupiscent
sepulchre

level 2. 811.54 The Art of Drowning