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don’t want to cause any nightmares. don’t want to feel like hell in the morning. don’t want to have a heart attack and fall on the ground unconscious. the pain is so great, an amber. mailbox is empty. notes. you get all sorts of ideas into your head, things you need vs. things you want. you stand in the fitting room mirror asking yourself if you’re good enough, if this is what it’s gonna take to knock people over onto their sides. too much television. did you know you could turn it off and still hear voices? this is what I hear before going to sleep, a mother screaming at her daughter, something petty. they’re going to have to break down and wash their kids mouths out with soap. they’re all in hell. I remember my session. my mother pried my fingers from the door frame and forced that shit into my mouth. I didn’t learn anything, even to this day, because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with cussing. only there’s something wrong with a person who has no tact, and they can say whatever they want and it’s always going to be offensive. I try not to have a filthy mindless mouth even if I feel that way, degraded, hurt, heartbroken sometimes. dreams are so interesting to me because you’re entering this other realm, it’s not ordinary. and I could go on with these notes, but I shouldn’t. time for bed or I won’t want to get up in the morning.