5:20 A.M. Futon couch is the same as it ever was. My body fits right in the fold and I haven't slept toninght. Feels like old times. Old and older. I don't know what I'm even saying here. Don't know what I'm doing.

Girls in the bunkbed. No more smoking through the bathroom window. Not here, this new house. The sound is just my fingers on the keys and the fan quiet inside this computer. Open my windows but it's too early for the birds. Just rambling here. Sticky fingers looking for some words. Tired in my arms and fingers and my eyes. I don't what I'm doing here.

We've been six months back in the new old, in this house, and I'm quiet with all the same old fears. All the same old something. But that breeze is nice coming light behind me. Give thanks for the first days of spring. God this winter has been fucking long.