Our seductive selves.

semi-poetry/journal entry for the Sunday A.M.

Waking up by 7am on a Sunday morning never felt better while she's sleeping in my bed. She sometimes spasm within her dreams onto my sheets like she withdrawal from heroin. After lingering around and tucking her in by 9am, I decide to ride my bike to the nearest Caribou coffee shop... just to get away. Delicious pink colored coffee that tastes like sex. Enjoying it.
I'm sitting in the cafe and contemplating my whole Sunday schedule. How will my night consist of? Why are all these people staring at me? Am I an alien? I think I got hit on by the butchy looking espresso maker. What a good morning in Chicago.

This young lady turned 18 on Thursday. We went everywhere together last night. It made me feel 18 again. In 15 more days I'll turn 20. Oh shit. I'm in but not there yet.
Things I do to feed the mind. I made soup the other day and it was rockin' amazing.