I just wrote 40 pages recollecting my last two weeks with a guy from Winnipeg, Manitoba. I started at 1015 AM this morning and it's 10 PM the same night. Of course, there had been the moment when I was cooking, and the moment when I was showering, complete with the pauses in between.. where my pinky was cramping, and I just needed to soak it in what I had just rethought of. And also search through my memory, see which one was which. It was first going as a letter to Olivia, and it still is, that first bit.. I'll just recopy it out or something. But then I just recorded all that was special to me from that time spent there. In the prairie fields.

I said to someone today, via text, that I was going to write a poem about it. It.. "it", I do not recall. Oh I know it. I left my water bottle in Fredericton. And I told Shaun that I would write a song about it.

Virtute the Cat explians her departure.

It had something to do with the pain.
---
And the way I left, so quick.. going.
For a while I , hated you, missing you.
I really didn't.
--
I was left waiting to see what had become of me.
Full of wine gusted and blown lines.
Where no voices ever were born.
You left me her ein this town, forlorne
To return, I knew what I'd had to do and say.
To never talk again to you, we gotta wait, for a year.
you made the choice, to end it. Althought, I am quite you know.
I made the decision, to fuck him.
So blow your self from now often.
Let me, do whomever the fuck I wantt,
How i would hate the taste, of your dick. Your sock was mouldy.

Your sock was mouldly, it smelt my snake's cage.
It was so fucking mould.y
But, I mean, we can continue on now without the other,
I always wanted to just go about and frolick.
Without stinky dicks.

But, now I'm left wondering, why the fuck did I have to leave soooo, soon.
Of course don't think this is about you,
I left my water bottle .

in the central compartments.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~**~*~
...shure

I'm not even going to edit that song.