In this mind, drinking turpentine

Feb 08, 2009 12:42

Shall I be giving a shit now? Shall I emerge victorious from hibernation, large as all open air. Conquered dreams are the most unstable burial plots to gloat over. Conquering the body is the whole 'nother story. The cramping of hands.
My guts.

But after a time when even my being is saturated in sweat from atrophy my sight is drawn to the sky, too high to be sworn into the luxury of mankind. I still move separately from it though and this concerns me, so the empty jars in my closet are not to be filled if you know what I mean.

I wasn't implying what you think I was implying.
Cause I wasn't implying anything, so I got you.

Will you allow to be got? Are you got already enough for a lifetime? Cause if so, I get it. There are worst things than worrying, I fear, but who doesn't? The fucking panda bears fear and they are both cute pandas and dangerous bears.

Here here.

Oh and what I'm suppose to do, I'm sure I know but playing out the future in your head makes it pretty boring ahead of time you know? I don't really, so I'm gonna have to do something different. Yeah right... like that would be even considered comfortable. God the cold is cold lately, I guess cause all that warmth has been used up after soooo long.

Hellow Mortimer. Long time no see. You've gotten bloated. Spiritually. Oh, because your dreams are corpses? Right. Well the floral arrangement around your head is very lovely. It's uplifting. Do you need a hand?
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