Boxes swallowed every decorative thing in this apartment.
We have already run out of packaging tape.
The Smiths all day long.
Part of me wishes to discard almost everything, burn my clothing and donate my shoes, give away my compact discs and sunglasses and arrive in the city midway through August with a few shirts and toothpaste and my daddio at my side with his vinyl and acrylics.
Oh honey I dream of University in the fall in the hooded-jacket weather.