gnunat

it's no wonder that i haven't felt that sunny lately when i sleep through most of the day. monday will be a welcome lengthy awakeness, shucking away the slippers i've been wearing on my brain. i hear need curdling in voices beneath my own breath, tucked in to bedclothes for my own good. organs and rattles are brimming with disdain, humming single sounds; a pointed notion that always emerges from the lower deck when the sails are full with wind. older getting young, or young's getting old; it's the pieces, the same instruments, that grind up the self-acceptance... but there seems to be something more purposeful to use of each, whether i've chose them or not.

sometimes, i just turn my cell off.