onemorepanic

11:35. let's re-evaulate our assumptions.
24 ounce beers bounce and clang as my mother watches me return from skateboarding. They Live as a rental. Rowdy Roddy Piper takes on the space aliens in this John Carpenter classic.

The Guinness top goes pop with a little help from my lighter and the headphones slide on as I shove a certain Dresden Dolls track on repeat.. and push foward to re-evaulate my assumptions.

This nine to five bullshit's got me in the wastelands of creation and so many fucking ideas go astray, underdeveloped, un-utilizied and unapproached. I sit in bed before rest and worry if i've processed the batch report instead of cooking up plots for an exit. To remove myself from this life. And annihilate the future.

I've succesfully built my new computer so intercraphic beat down is now in progress. My baby of a website hotsexintheory'll get a new face, mantra and warpath. Start throwing poetry and art shows again, this time with meaning, resolve, an attack plan, a target in my reticle. And I don't care if it's everyone in my crosshairs, take fucking stands until you can no longer keep the balance, continue to expose your bloodied teeth when the floor's your only friend. The resolve of a drunkard. So admired and despised.

TIme to celebrate my grief. Eat away at my consciousness in the same solid slaps my liver recieves.

Mother'd be so proud.