i can see the boston skyline from here in all of its rancid splendor. a thick, yellowy haze casting a cigarette-burned superdome over its mawkishness.

surrounded by azure, shrouded in yellow, the city's claustrophobia reflects my claustrophobia.

that's right, the herbal essences girl is back, and i'm wondering if her eyes are even real.

and yes, once again, i am entranced.

sitting here, i'm a mess.

yellow, fallow... a rotting bananna isn't that pretty to look at, but still smells fine.

and our eyes met for what i believe is the first time. words are escaping me...

but i am beginning to understand how the city feels reaching its jutting fingers to clutch a gasp past the choking maize-colored atmosphere to simply wash itself of the putrid filth building up on all of its appendages that weighs on its constitution. and i appreciate the irony of the reaching being afforded by the filth that the reach aims to escape. sometimes it's not the attainment that allows us to exist.