And it keeps me awake at night. It keeps me away from the things I love. I was OK for a little bit. Sleeping, waking up feeling rested. But now it's back. It's Three A.M. and here I am again. No amount of teeth staining tea can save me from this. It feels like my parts have become inconsequential to the sum. Is it the snoring next door, or the TV down the hall that keeps me up? No, it's something inside of me. Something that makes me fight. So i'll go now, scribble some notes that I'll never read again, conjure up some quotes I'll forget by morning. What morning is it anyway that's coming up? Is it Wednesday or Tuesday? Do I have to move the car.
I've come up with these drawings, which proves I'm not an artist but I'm making a connection.
86, 92, 99.
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