My mom said to me something a while ago that could be considered funny when taken out of context and translated from chinese: I never knew my son liked to smoke butts.

On a more personal note (didn't know it could get more personal then me smoking your butt), I think I get a cold whenever change happens. I started my co-op today, and my throat was killing me, and my head was all stuffed up for the whole day. And of course, it's during allergy season, so I had no way of identifying the symptoms until they kicked my ass.

I wrote a poem today while being bored in orientation, and that's what I'm going to leave you with:

*While you were sleeping, or: otherwise untitled like most of my poems*

Silhouettes dance with images of you
As I lie alone, thinking, sighing, waiting
For the day you come back to me.
When I can hold you in my arms
Like I hold my blanket on cold nights
Drifting toward lonely, empty sleep.

Once again cuddled safely, warmed by your body.
To feel the tickle of your breath upon my neck,
To feel our hearts beating together as one,
Remembering nights I'd stay awake and watching,
Making the moment last as long as possible
Caressing your hair as you shuffle, clutching to my arm.

Daylight breaks between half closed curtains,
Nudging my eyes gently to wake.
I smile at the night we had spent together.
Turning to hold you in my arms once more,
Grabbing onto empty space, empty like so many nights,
To the blanket that you once replaced.

*******

On those lonely nights, I smoke alot of butt.