THE FINE ART OF HIBERNATING...
...nothing like the scent of the basement cement-floor: old photos, letters, homework, stashed away in a vault...
...a blue stain...we threw pouches of kool-aid in the toilet, simply to flush those colors down the drain...
...there really is no memory to believe in...
...just a back-splash of imagery...sudden still-shots of word exercise, the next t-shirt carved into a logo...
...and really the best sleep you can awake to is not picking at those scabby skies...
...the wildest of dreams to come true are the ones that leave you alone in bed with a case of morning wood or what ever the girls get, fingering yourself.
...nothing like the scent of the basement cement-floor: old photos, letters, homework, stashed away in a vault...
...a blue stain...we threw pouches of kool-aid in the toilet, simply to flush those colors down the drain...
...there really is no memory to believe in...
...just a back-splash of imagery...sudden still-shots of word exercise, the next t-shirt carved into a logo...
...and really the best sleep you can awake to is not picking at those scabby skies...
...the wildest of dreams to come true are the ones that leave you alone in bed with a case of morning wood or what ever the girls get, fingering yourself.