sometimes i stay on the internet because it just means my phone can't ring. every doorway is the same color of grey. but oh oh, that smile on my face isn't the rictus of the corpse. my grin is growing, ever growing, like the threat of nuclear war during the fifties (50's). my grin is going by where has all my vodka gone? i made popcorn to distract myself from the problems of a sober life. dear tuesday. i qualify for grants from the government but is that enough to save my life? or else what?