Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Nag Champa

Burning incense has become sort of a rite in my room.

Every Sunday.

A funeral party for the week, I guess.

And I try to unwind, and usually it works to some extent. Plus, I usually play In the Aeroplane Over the Sea and scream along to all of the words.

I usually lie down on the carpet I vacuumed earlier in the day.

By the last song I'm usually screaming as loud as I can.

I really wish this week was over.

I want to feel my throat rip and ache and cough out all the smoke.

I want to sit up high in my branches.

And relax.

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