Do something together and
wake Mike up because it
is noon and he’s still
sleeping.
Its her last hurrah;
get her something from
all of you.
Not the last, simply one
of many to come.
Stop wishing aloud.
Me, my birthday
is in six days;
get me the usual
pecans,
belt,
nuts,
whatever.
I couldn’t care less
You do care. You want it to happen.
You’ve told me.
Aloud.
but she,
she needs it.
Not as you much as you do.

(Source: heylittlewildgirl)

Two is spinning and all of the words on all of the pages don’t say anything. So many people and so many little typefaced bugs crawling across flattened tree bark that will never feel the warmth of the moss again. And I will never know them all. They will always be still, frozen in the silence of a thought described…always, always elusive.

I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.

I care.