eight_am_fiction bethany newspapers stale strawberries poptart with a dull pain in my hand and duller in my heart a boy sits kiddy-korner to me watched him walk by exchanged an 8 am glare and both immediately started nervously writing ...or i think he's drawing he could dull the pain i can tell by his messy hair paint splattered & ripped early 90's sneakers wonder if he smokes pot we'd probably probably get along well better than the anemic sports twit and the raging hornball hitting on her once again right next to me hey at least they know they get along i just have an 8 am conjecture but he did start drawing after he watched me writing this 020416 ... unhinged i had not been to bed and the twittering of the birds in the dead trees sound more a live and more frightening. not much else was moving. it was cold and damp. the smoke from my cigarette hung in the air oddly. i like the way the world looks when i haven't slept. blink blink there are more cars on the road now then there were when i was sitting out here three hours ago. the frost is turning to slickness from my feet, the cars. anything soft seems too inviting. everyone is an asshole when i haven't slept. blink blink so this is the reality that science can't measure. i was all caught up in scientism at one point in my life. you know that you spent some absurd amount like 75% of all the money you ever spend on healthcare in the last six weeks of your life. just so you can stay alive another measly six weeks, laid up in a bed, barely breathing, peeing through a tube. sounds like fun to me. blink blink every cigarette i smoke is like pulling the plug, writing dnr on my own death certificate. i don't want to end up like my grandma. she didn't want to end up like that either, but the rest of them around her couldn't let her go. blink blink sometimes sleepless reality scares me and i find a bed and don't wake up for days. 020828 what's it to you? who go blather from