"We have to be quiet..."

"We... have to be... quiet..."

I'm wearing a mask of feigning ignorance while thoughts flow smooth as creeks in my head. Too bad the two just aren't connected by the weakened threads of sobriety...

Good thing there are no people in the theater of my thoughts because I am running rampant with complaints. I am screaming at the top of my lungs... The lungs at my core...

Tears course like blood from my bruised eyes, ears. Unbeknownst of their own senses, they know what is wrong and how to stop it, but the message... just... gets...

Lost...

----

"HOLY SHEEEEEEEEIT..." *Laughs* "I've fallen."

*Cries*

I'm the third wheel in an 18-wheeler. I can only ask the back of the couch for it's comfort and absorbant qualities to mop up these ridiculous tears.

...

"Who's fucking hand is that?"

Keep sliding on a level plane, brain. Body can't touch it's own face without swimming first.

This is so wrong. This is so necessary.

Now Playing: Six Organs of Admittance - "Procession of Cherry Blossom Spirits"