It won't stop running.

I want to live in a studio apartment, with a huge open window, a great view of the city. All one big open room. I want to move away from here, from this dirty, lonely spot in New Jersey, to a place where I will struggle and no one will know me. And I will know no one.

I want to string paper birds from the ceiling.. and stick pictures of my friends without faces to the beams that hold up the ceiling. I want to have papers spilled all across the floor with my drunken writing and paintings from the night before. I want to wake up at 8am, a hot mess, and drink my coffee and smoke my cigarettes. And bask in the sunlight.

I will arise and go to work with a heavy smile on my face and no one will know what's underneath or who I am or what I go home to..

He will be there with me, whoever he is. My best friend, I hope. Someone who will love me unconditionally and whom I can love in return. We will make love to one another with childish smiles on our faces.. and never look back. It will not hurt, not matter. There will be friendly loving love between us, no emotional strings where the other will get hurt. He will wash my back for me in the bath, and put my oversized t-shirt on me at night. I will cook for him and read him lines from my book in progress. No tears, no fighting, no jealousy.

There will be candles around us. Around our white wrought-iron bed with the musty sheets covered in yellow flowers. And the lamp I just bought that is made of pink lace and crystal and bows and sweet things that makes a lovely pattern on the ceiling. This is what I want.

We will stand on the balcony and overlook the city and smoke and smoke and smoke. And drink, to life. Not knowing if the bills will get paid or when the electric will get turned back on. We will waste away, never having enough to eat. But it's okay. Because we will have each other. And we will dance to the hum of the cars and the light of the stars.

This is what I want.

Night travels through the forest. In white dresses and suits. And wreathes of nature around our heads. We will have each other and nothing more will matter.

Then we will awake again.. to the sound of more cars. And to the creaking of the bed. And to the paint being spilled upon the floor. And to the drunken post-its crowding and covering the beam next to our faces.

And to some lovely strawberry tea.

This is what I want.