we're not the grown ups
I HATE YOU!
I'll KILL YOU!
The neighbors directly behind me scream.
Second 24 of Guiness for the evening.
Tubring on the stereo/tv.
Now the sounds of slamming doors.
Need a blank tape and batteries; record the disturbance.
Phone rings. For me. Memory loss. Selective memory. Liar?
I don't know. I'm a big piece of shit no matter what's assumed.
languishing, as the neighbors directly behind me infant cries.
Took to the streets with a cigarettes, dollar bills and a camcorder seeking bums to interview.
No such luck.
My insides stink. As does my breath. As does this room.
The rhythm of today went offbeat. No sense of tempo.
I HATE YOU!
I'll KILL YOU!
The neighbors directly behind me scream.
Second 24 of Guiness for the evening.
Tubring on the stereo/tv.
Now the sounds of slamming doors.
Need a blank tape and batteries; record the disturbance.
Phone rings. For me. Memory loss. Selective memory. Liar?
I don't know. I'm a big piece of shit no matter what's assumed.
languishing, as the neighbors directly behind me infant cries.
Took to the streets with a cigarettes, dollar bills and a camcorder seeking bums to interview.
No such luck.
My insides stink. As does my breath. As does this room.
The rhythm of today went offbeat. No sense of tempo.
cthav:
great journal. thumbs up.
onemorepanic:
why, thank ye.