too tired to wrrite properly

Ah, the sweet unexpected blessings of having a domesticated roomate. Thank you Adrian for the plate of snackey treats. Raw plants are choice right now.

I’ve come ‘home’ today smelling of cigarette smoke for the first time in a forever. I consider it a terrible habit, and one that should be crushed like a butt in a can, but there is a certain something about having the scent in my hair that I can’t quite place. It’s somehow comforting, like it’s a certainty that I was out and well. My shirt is also contaminated, though differently. It’s funny, I just took it off and I realized that in spite of my wearing it almost three days straight, it has caught the scent of someone else. You are the thickest, an ‘I want to eat your eyes’ relaxing spice. Then there’s the burnt meat of the Deli-Llama, and the heat of the Poetry Slam as well as Shane’s smoking habits hugged into it. Yours is what catches in my mouth, the one I can taste.


*laughter* The sky is light out again. It does that.

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