Insomnia is a hell of a drug

Yes. I roil under the comforter. Think that a heavy blanket isn’t as innovative as the youth would claim. To say that I won’t regret being unable to get past not being able to let go is not to say I hold on to the utility of having regrets in the first place. A web of lightning arouses the thought that we know very little, almost nothing, in the way of fundamentals. Wind shear and funnel clouds and the lord of the ionosphere. Seidel would not warrant the elk being such a dick. A sickly dick, though, he might. The rash on the earth’s surface like a skein of oil in the puddle: yes a beautiful rainbow and also the transmission may soon throw a rod. Both and. Mining for metaphors, i come across the claim that the new new thing takes a sum of energy to find in an indecipherable hash that exceeds the harm inflicted by the flatulence of cows, which have four stomachs. Say this with dourness in your hear for long enough and its upper chamber turns black. We used To make chimpanzees smoke in labs to test the efficacy of our ability to test the harm of smoking out there in the wild. That may not be strictly true but it seems dead right as something we would do, huh? It fits us as an indictment. Even if we were to be punished for what was alleged but not proven, coming out in the wash and all. Being damned seems a tight fit for our predicament. Always already inherently guilty. I chew gum that delivers chemicals. I chew nails until blood arrives. I slept well once back when the epidemiological amplitude of the plague was first being sounded. Our models take their own pictures now. Call that obsolescence of the subject object bugaboo. Soon I will be the kind of tired where psychopathology aids but does not abet. Boo but not hiss, screw but will not kiss.