Wednesday, June 7, 2006

a clear conscience is a soft pillow

Sombebody give me a home so I can find sleep again.

I'm drinking herbal tea that's supposed to induce sleepiness when a shot of whiskey is what I really need. A cure for my sobriety, for worry and conscience.

If I had any poetry I'd write one about us and about how I've let us down. I'd lend some significance to my nearsightedness and this mug of luke-warm tea. I could craft it. I could make it come together if only there were sense to it, to me, but there isn't. These skinny sentences are, therefore, all you're going to get.

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