raw eggs, raw meat

hungry days have passed by without letting me know they were leaving, let alone dropping in. i can't tell if the rain lulled me into a false sense of solitude or if i've finally reached the eye of chaos. simple things like the cool air and the greasy sound of sizzling onions have made me infinitely content. i am finally able to read again and i began to feed my voracious appetite by stuffing myself with two books in a matter of days. i did read the bell jar again. i actually finished two hours ago. sylvia plath's words are a distorted and more elegant version of my own and i every time i read them i feel like i've absorbed some more of her fraternal spirit. i kissed the cover when i closed it over those two hundred odd pages.