the whore moans, y'all

Monday. A delicious paraffin wax hand dip with parking karma you wouldn't believe.

Tuesday. The nap you can't have.

Wednesday. The hot, sick and headache of the nap too long indulged.

Thursday. A violent scribble in black ballpoint, the paper DESTROYED!

Thursday Night. The purple sore jaw and swagger of Fight Club.

Right now. Just the bruise.

* * *

I'll be the one this weekend buried to my neck in down and eating ice cream for breakfast.

Pray for rain.

And that the Netflix arrive -- please God -- on time.