washing my hands of the mornings aborted efforts at going to the gym. i came, i saw, i got bored. i roam on, schools of fish scattering from my path. my girlfriend called me just now, going up to cape cod with her fucking ex. i'm a coal, i'm the fire that first was sparked. i smolder like anything. i grow extra teeth, sharper talons. but its cool, i'm like mister fucking orange. i'm cool like fonzie. i'm every tatantino cliche because i feel like i've got a gun in my pocket. plus it worries me that she smokes so much. thats cool, thats okay. i'm just a vent at the bottom of the ocean, spitting out brimstone.