the ticking of the clock - it comes and goes to help me understand but my memory is lacking on both sides of the spectrum and I sense my senses are senseless without a run-on sentence. now I'm no carpenter of tangible things though my tangents seem to correlate with a common theme.
the roads are covered in precipitation that never could decide which side to stay on. it's nearly dawn and I open the garage just to see mess I missed while sleeping. at least with the energy drinks in the fridge I can crash with some dignity.
afternoons are by far the worse. I'm not self-critical enough; not aware of how it all matters by the time my final cigarette is violently vacuumed into a lung or two. but much like the sleet, I really have no opinions lying on my bed and subsequently none on the matter. why should I when I'm so close to an edge that has no bottom and less gravity the farther you free fall?
sometimes I'll fix the fleeting crevices of my eyelids on the crack between drapes and think to myself 'hey look there's a crack between the drapes'. If I really let myself go, I can float off my mattress or even feel that gravity pull me off from it. I don't think I was meant to remember such horrors.
I'm inclined to think painful deaths last a long time, so pardon me while I take my chances with the ants and plunder underground in a line.
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