I am a writer, writer of fiction...

[ismackyou]

I am very fucking close to losing it.
By the end of this entry, I will have a breakdown.

Sleep has become a work of paperback fiction.
And I am its misplaced, self-absorbed villain.
All of the elements of nature and time are working against me.
I am Eliot's best allusion, HD's best illusion, Crane's conclusion.

I have since given up on ideas and am more interested in booze.

Tonight I am swallowing my humor.
Going to the Shakespeare Tavern.
[Re]writing a paper.
Seeing off a friend.
Drinking myself to death.

Comma
Lalitha