Easy like a Sunday Morning

Or not so fucking easy like a Sunday mourning. Cluster headache like a mug today my loves. Knew it was brewing all week. hoped to juke and jive my way out of this one. 

it could be worse. ummm. Could be four spikes at once? 

So today is the day of questioning all. It always is when my skull has pygmies hopped up on angel dust having three separate yet somehow in sync orgies in my fucking brain.

Right temple orgy involves cattle. Left eye orgy is definitely the dungeon. center skull is the smooth soul bass pounding as the lovely people pull off a pounding of their own.

Fuck me running. Maybe just fuck me. Fuck. 

I am on the verge of something right now dear reader. Standing at the lip of a volcano, watching the lava lap the sides and heat distortions all about me. Her words speak to me primally. I want to dive in head first. Wrap her in my arms and keep her safe from every thing. Whisper sweet nothing’s into her ear and fight off buccaneers. 

It feels like falling. Controlled falling into chaos. Like falling in lo…


I can text her all day and then talk to her for hours and still feel like it isn’t enough. What the fuck is wrong with me? I feel like an idiot, smiling all the fucking time. I do not want to fuck this up my friends. But my mind is not listening. it has these dreams and wants and needs. and it is transfixed. 

I dreamt of holding her last night. A contented happy dream only broken when I briefly shifted and opened my eyes. I smiled and pulled the pillow in. closer and went right back to the dream. 

Just thinking of her makes the headache not seem so horrendous. I was done for the year. Going on hiatus from constant disappointment. Closing for the season. The one Jesus is the reason for. Winter. I think. And now this.

Fucking fuck. I dare not speak the words, the flowery swill filling my head. The daydreams and rainbows and butterflies. The pastel colored backdrops and heart shaped clouds. If another fucking blue bird lands on my shoulder and sings some happy tune I will snap its hollow bones and make lunch. I am man. I need no happy soundtrack to tap my toes along to. I live in a world of controlled rage and man feelings. 

Save the prose for the poets. let those bastards speak from a haze of opium and self induced delusion. I do not fear fucking this up. I fear not exposing my psyche. Not letting out the images floating through my head. If a dream presents itself and you do not try your god damnedest to wrap your hands around it and bring it in close what have you done? 

The world is a shitshow of constant and total soul crushing stupidity. Maybe these complex emotional bombs are the only way of attaining zen like clarity. Even if it all consuming and the only thing that exists at the moment.

But what do I know? I am just an idiot with a headache that feels like he is falling head over heel. 

I love you guys. The kids have feasted and i have expunged my mental delirium. Now to daydream and hope the little bastards in my brain have need for a refractory period. Muah.

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