I won't get roped into this bullshit again. I have pills I need to swallow. windows I need to shut, and teeth needing to be pulled. sick of wet cheeks and regrets I need to manage. tired of sweeping ashes onto my dinner plate.
curious how a certain angle of the light shows all the grime and dust that was once hidden, yet now becomes a task of uncertain providence. curiouser still, how I forget just how much truly matters. it's a dirty monitor and a missing lighter, but the terrible velocity of my amnesia is no excuse.
fear not, but fetch the field notes anon.
few know the sound of grinding steel which resonates from my lower jaw and travels, unbidden, into my dreams. or, the fact that scraping promises against enervations yields a scent very similar to burning hair. but, maybe that's what it means to have a nightmare? such would be singular, within the shivering realm that is my slumber.
no answers when I sleep, and fewer when I wake. or was it the reverse?
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