some days are bad days
this one is getting worse

the butterflies in my stomach are monarchs with razor fangs, the bats in my belfry have gotten into the meth again

rancid remains of ridicule
the check is late i’m overdue

i’m sinking down into the backed up sewers, sliding down into ruin, falling faster in the quicksand, irradiated, contemplated, insulated, nearly made it

rank and file, misanthropic
messengers from miskatonic

tap tap upon the ceiling but i’m standing on my head, morse code for beginners, a hearty hail the queen is dead

some lifetimes are bad
but this one’s getting worse