it turns out: liquor.
feeling so fucking steam kettle. i can't get over the fear of bad dreams. after i sent jenny an email i realized i asked her maybe a suspicious ammount if she would protect me. like, why does there have to be aaron & his u-haul truck? why do i have to help him move out when all i want to do it spread out a carpet of knives before me? this beached whale morning. can't i drink until there isn't any me that can touch any you? come cotton, come silk. hewn down by the fell swords of the grim congregation. super gluing fine china back together is my motiff this morning. the rat in the bassinet. ow i have to go eat, they are telling me. me & my ripe ass.