morning_mourning birdmad i am not by any sense of the word a morning person. the start of each day and the ensuing flood of consciousness reminds me that i cannot escape from who i am or who i have been no shower cleans it away no new haircut or new clothes changes what has been seething beneath the skin only the deep silence of the evening when the city sleeps is any comfort to me i can stare at the moon as she stares back down at me i can ponder the stars and know that in the time it took their light to reach me, lifetimes have come and gone from the moment the photons left the corona of home to meet my eyes and even though there is not much solace in even this, it is still better than the thought of my own face lit by the light of day 001023 ... unhinged guided betta until the tears stopped falling 200329 ... unhinged metta 200329 what's it to you? who go blather from