♫: the whitest boy alive - burning


There was a certain group of garbage that I never knew where to place - paper, cans or plastic. I knew they were trash, but I just couldn't decide which bin they belonged to. I left the detritus lying around my room, convinced that they may perhaps be of use someday, at least in some infinitesimal measure. But I found out that it had been producing a putrid stench without my knowledge, insidiously, but then rather unbearably, and it didn't matter if they were useful anymore because I wouldn't use something as fetid as shitwater. Quite obtusely, because I should have known that is what garbage does. This is what I long should have done. And by this time, they should be behind some foreign workers on their roisterous voyage towards the incinerators, sooner than you know, in a landfill, part of bigger garbage, part of flammable fetor, part of dirt, part of nothing. Never known to have existed as far as the world above is concerned.



I can officially wake up at 1005 for a 10am lecture.

Hallelujah, thank You.

Thank you too.

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