woke up this morning wide-eyed, shedding a perfume of living machines, smaller than anything. swarms of microscopic nanites who don't worry about becoming obsolete because they're always engaged in self-evolution. strains of the mechanical microbes going to war against others. this fog of hate & diamond dust roiling around me like steam cascading off dry ice. in otherwords: having a girl to love you might make sleeping better, but it doesn't make waking up any easier.