oily Soma black strands of slick hair stance shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of everyone with their shit together at the pharmacy I am oily greased and laden with the spittle of myriad voices it drips dribbles and shines as it see seeing seeps seeping into my cotton strand after strand thread after thread a tapestry of fate soiled by mortal minds and they are spic and span and shifting further away under their fear of being soiled too 240314 what's it to you? who go blather from