♫: paris combo - berceuse insomniaque
To think I believe something as big as a jet plane has to take me away, when the flight a paper plane could leave my eyes and mind trailing into useless preoccupation or, well, Nothing. I slowly trace the nebulising boundary between dreams and reality, and lately I find I often mix them up. Being aware of this makes it hard to think hallucinogen/barbiturate-free; Never a good sign when you laugh while watching porn. And we all (just me, just me) have this idea of life, my days ahead, roll out like a sequence of paroxysms, one episode after another. Like we need things like these to characterise how things go, how we lay out. But with tenacity the opposite perpetuates, the days have a dearth of loquacity, like time is in a soundproof room, a bulwark surround. Life is a pussy, cushioned and tacit.
Oh and I have bangs now... gnarly.
/2:34 AM
