Mar 24, 2017
Ex Text
I think my carpet is killing me - And if I write it, it makes it more true. So I had to think twice before writing it. But writing it out is dealing with it. Fuck knows. Iโm neurotic. Fuck knows, maybe it is killing me. My slipper socks shed like a yak. God help this drug addled giant, and find him a matching pair of socks. I know youโre not thinking about unblocking me. Your head is probably tipsy with razor-blades doing the fandango in itโs usual cloak of groan - tapered just for Monday Mornings. But That cloak, it stole a manโs placid temperament you see. There are five-gazillionย specks of fuzz on this carpet and you are not here, cross-legged, to help pick them away with me.ย
