(no subject)
today i am amidst a scrap yard of ex-boyfriends. there to compare, contrast, and calculate thier next move. im sick and muffled to begin with today, and the sound of scratching heads is only making me more deaf. it's like a sad board meeting on a quarter inch steel table top. boots tapping in the mud sound like bullfrogs in heat.
"so where to from here?"
"i guess we'll wait it out"
"but we're already doing that now."
"i guess we'll cry and write songs then."
"and then what?"
"ask tomorrow."
by delerium alone i heard not a word. it's like being in the daily grind trying to resurface back to what led you here in the first place. to climb that greasy playground slide and discover the same mulchbed all over again.
friends don't let friends write on cold medicine.
"so where to from here?"
"i guess we'll wait it out"
"but we're already doing that now."
"i guess we'll cry and write songs then."
"and then what?"
"ask tomorrow."
by delerium alone i heard not a word. it's like being in the daily grind trying to resurface back to what led you here in the first place. to climb that greasy playground slide and discover the same mulchbed all over again.
friends don't let friends write on cold medicine.