amazon, no I will not rate my "transaction"

my hands are cold in this joke of a library, in my joke of a home, which everyone always stares at bewildered that I, my kind, meaning me not my race, my face, my demeanor, my ugly grades on assignments, my not-there motivation, lives here.

my hands are cold, because this room is three-fourths windows, and because I am practicing asceticism. or maybe I am practicing using that word, to practice this blog, which I ignore, although [it] needs me, [it] needs me. so asceticism yes.

i am pulling out my hairs onto this math homework. i am pulling on my eyes to do this math homework. i am gluing myself to the thing I've never been warned to stay away from, because i can only admit that it's a problem. well it's not, but i'd rather be reading Giovanni's Room (by Lawrence duh..)right now, i have barely started it, and damn are my hands cold.

i read a review that said, "this school is painfully easy to get in," and I felt okay, I scrolled to the one below it and it read "posted January 5th 2008" I smiled and computer restarted itself, quite the save.

yes, I want to stay logged in,
and i'm not even sure what I wanted to say
but I was supposed to talk about this movie,
or I have been meaning to,
and now I can easily say,
i'm not because of someone else,
but the save is that they don't even read this.

someone asked me about gender identity, and it felt like when your butt-hole detracts and contracts, I am the squiggly thin skin swirling back into that dark place, that waste comes out of, that hides the fact that it's a whole, is that gross?

i do not care,
what the opposite of a lullaby
well--goodnight folks