Nightmares waking me every hour, five past.
Do they fortune tell the future?
Or just puffs of vapor fear?
The last one woke me up just enough where I altered the outcomes.
For the worse.
Good morning Furies.. How are the pitching arms?
Hates it, hates it when there’s not enough sleep and the eyes burn.
Can’t I just be grumpy and NOT explain myself. What’s with this constant self-defeating need?
Get the fuck out of the past. Honestly though, I do miss the Oregon days of funning the sheep and pounding out Poetic Pollution code in the various apartments.
Dreams fuck with me hard when they mirror waking days. Hard to divide reality and REM. Is there a mathematical equation to do this for me?
Beth and her sour times can go fuck themselves. And so can you Miss Welch and The Xx. I used to love all of you. >:-)
Dude, get your shit together.