When the bough breaks. As I listen to the music…the swells feed my weary soul. My nerves on the way to redemption. Rinse and repeat. Why am I?
In the here and now, I serve up a word salad of no sustenance. Trying to stay together and not fall to pieces. Walking on a thin line. Soda bloated me again. Freeze dried spirits gather for the auction of what I hold as truth. Left again in the cold.
Watermelon sugar high. Why no comments? Perpetual failure is not a “calling” but, a lifestyle. Its good to not be afraid.
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