song of twitches

here it is;

I haven't shivered like this in months. it would feel good, save the gnawing thought: I AM AN ACCOMPLICE. fuck it. not like anyone else would do it any different. family is family. although I don't buy for a minister's minute that blood is automatically thicker that water. circumstantial evidence can be such an inconvenience. 

still, the cold makes its point. the song ends, and the TV in the bedroom reminds you that there are more players in the game than you'd taken into account on this particular expedition into the depths of your own personal quagmire. 

the aching muscles at the corner of your mouth - the ones that signify that you've been scowling for at least 15 minutes straight - further illustrate the point.

it's hard to imagine the cost of such follies which accompany this time of year. unless, of course, you happen to be a rat living in the tunnel connecting the basement to the consensus. yeah, be mindful of the gap. 

sorry , the union that handles that particular lapse in sarcastic cohesion has met with insolvency.