Here I am, nearing 3 am again, tiring away like the hours of yesterday in my pumpkin coach. Not in a sad way, but in an inevitable mellow-drama. Falling out over time like the waves making it to the shore, no matter what shape in which they might actually arrive. Even if they die out, foaming at the mouth. I used to be a soldier at heart, but the desert has warped that blessed curse in this mind. All soldiers become weary. That is the shore that I am currently beached on, ribs caved in mindless breath. Thinking nothing, nothing, nothing. I am a sleep walker, a daydream cruiser. I am a reality winder-hide and seek bruised. Too much of a day is a bad thing for me, and I have had but an hour of rest between now and the sleep that pinched me barely between it's fingers for an hour or so. I wish I didn't have to start a stupid job this morning, but I guess it will help the day die. Hopefully this one falls like a half ass fire, because I'll have to be up at 5 am to start this puppy. Coffee in the veins, that's an incoming reality without a doubt. It's funny because the trains are blaring their business over each other at a constant pace, which is usually oddly comforting to me in these hours, a dulled reminder of home. "You can still go back one day". But, this morning they are too familiar, too selfish and obscene, like the trains that would scream 50ft from my head on a freezing Portland night, as I hated a concrete bed. Here's to fighting the lackadaisical. Here's to charming the pants off the rest of today, and goddamned most of all, a mouth frothing CHEERS to hitting that delicious stage of delirious when you know you're good because you and the world each have each other by the balls. Amen sister.
-dm.
