who will save your soul?

[toxicfumes]

Raging hormones intertwine with the drink in my hand and all else is history. Only that one moment matters and it's a question of fulfillment or destitution. Is the life your pouring from your cup and into my body gradually climbing to meet Mr. Expectation? Or is there a crevice in which this delicate vitality seeps out onto the battle field? I'm not quite sure, but I'm quite sure that it is pretty hectic. On the whole, things are going pretty well, not much to complain about. Just a mound of confusion here, and a pile of impulses there. I'm encountering more anger and hipocrisy than Id like, and this seems to reveal a few bruises left unmended. The mere thought of such a being makes me tremble; I'd like to see this thought go back into hibernation.

So today is Sunday. I woke up with a sense of motivation I haven't gotten all summer. I'm going to write an essay or two and soak up the rest of today. It looks lovely.