I can't seem to locate my mind. My eyes burn, tears pouring out. Not tears of sadness, not tears of joy, just tears. Fucking watery eyes. Lack of sleep. Stress. Aggravation at work, both jobs.
I had a dream last night. In it I was alive, rested and happy. Nothing like the dead man I have become.
The hollow stare is brought to you by life.
The rotting flesh courtesy death.
Floogin has left the building.
The light's on, the attic is vacant.
No, wait, the light's out as well.
Or something.
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2 comments:
With ketchup or relish hon?
Hang in there.You are tougher than you think.Just need to find that second wind..and that doesn't mean two farts.lol. :)
SEE? made ya smile didn't I ?
Hire a 25 year old French maid to come clean your house while you're home. It'll be "stimulating" the economy, as well as a little more...
Or you could just go buy the wife the outfit, and have her wear it while she cleans... Whatever floats your boat!! :P
Trent :-)
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