goodbye july

just being smelly in my head smelling confusion and cancers twelve days till this twelve hours till that twelve months till a summer summwhere else? i could tumble over my doodoodoododo into some strange futon land where drapes cover the walls, not the windows, and people have lost track of the methods they're using to keep in touch. or i could drum up some coucoucourage lion heart-style and let you know when i've sunk my teeth into the right thing to say. what can i ask of? what can i give to?