lackluster

Sea.. cake.. iron wine

It is all just one long fucking wedding reception where half wrinkled suits loosen their ties while in line for the open bar. Thirsty Thursdays mean nothing when happy hour starts at five and they pretend not to feel complete apathy for lovers lost. A wave of depression over the turn tables as some Journey record makes its way out of the DJs trailer and into the hearts of the single mothers on fixed incomes. It seems more like a funeral with no inheritance and the wake has been canceled due to lack of interest. Something up tempo for the masses as they redistribute their weight and hold back their fists. You can smell the borders blurring with consumption.


Sometimes when I see something so consummate, I want to kill it. Just so I can be the last thing it sees before it dies.

Its a lot like that for you and me.