spoke the cat is stoned on cold medicine and wondering why my shoes are always so hungry that they insist on eating my socks. it is a scary world to be a sock. you go into the washer or dryer but you don't always come out.
And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world. -Robert Frost
i'm a pain in the ass. too passionate for my own damn good. overly sensitive and under drugged. i need a drink more times than not but often indulge in a cup of tea, heavy on the cream. i over complicate thinks, think myself into circles or black nights of insomnia when nothing but riding the street car for hours will do. i think the world is headed for hell and yet somehow, we as humanity will rise up and save ourselves in the nick of time like the end of a hollywood blockbuster. i'm an incurable optimist who is always preparing for disaster and when you are looking for it, god help us, it finds you.
No comments:
Post a Comment