(no subject)
Strange. A friend of the city has left me with a gift-bottled happiness. He lived in an apartment once. With rats and cockroaches but they're gone now. So he waits. He takes a pill or two, and suddenly he feels so high. Carefree and free. Swishing and swishing goes the pretty world and colors of debris and scrapes of hands and knees and the monster peers into the window and smiles: Hello, City. Falling is freedom, he says. Falling falling falling is always freedom says the little blue man (“and scared me right out of my wits”).
Skeleton-bones-dust lying in the corner, free of this migraine that digs and digs into the brain. He doesn’t need these anymore. They’re yours now; he has better things to put into his little worry card-box.
What is this that’s mine, comes from this bottled sleep?
What is (definition (noun)) v - a - l - i - u - m - . - . - . - ?
free to sleep for first time.
g o o d n i g h t n e w y o r k g o o d n i g h t
Skeleton-bones-dust lying in the corner, free of this migraine that digs and digs into the brain. He doesn’t need these anymore. They’re yours now; he has better things to put into his little worry card-box.
What is this that’s mine, comes from this bottled sleep?
What is (definition (noun)) v - a - l - i - u - m - . - . - . - ?
free to sleep for first time.
g o o d n i g h t n e w y o r k g o o d n i g h t