Tuesday 6/26/2007 12:45:00 AM

A spider crawled behind the molding. A yellow light stopped my car. My mood swimming between pink floyd and mudvayne. We watched as they engineered love for profit. And considered how science had failed us.

We sat outside as the sun finally boasted through the clouds. I imagined a smaller world. Where the moments belong to us. Where sex is not an obscenity. And love is not a flaw.

Taking into consideration all facets of my downfall I decided I had not lost. That no one had won. I was just more aware of my defeat. I just didn't want to try anymore.

Writers... poets... they talk to themselves quietly. So no one else should hear. Until they're sure they've said what's most flattering of their frailties.

I lay down each night perfectly sedated. I tell these stories because all the real ones are gone. There is life in fiction. There is salvation in addiction if you look hard.

And that's where I am. Sober enough to know I'm losing. Drunk enough to let it happen.

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