A change in method, a deviance from form

It strikes me, as I swallow this speckled melatonin, how deeply rooted within myself was a pervasive and dominating
darkness.

Like a color palette crashing to the floor with a resultant explosion of fluids (a spectacularly painted conical updraft), so was I.

A tornado of passions and mood and spun out. The sickening prelude to the dawn's soon

strung out.

Half a face in a reflection, half a voice from tired hand. I let it get the best of me.

I don't rightly know how I'm going to reconcile some of the things that I've done now operating with this sharp-tack mind.

I guess God and I will take a walk.

...

These days, as opposed to those days,

I don't even want the same things that I did when my skin crawled with that damn substance fueled prick.

A thousand needles letting from me blood and flagrant sins.

I can turn around and see it all again.

Never mind where it all went wrong, It was all wrong where it went.

Now where it goes is the only pertinent story.

Barbara Bush died tonight and a nation mourned.

Oh to be so special as to interrupt the regularly scheduled program.

So far I feel that I'll need to send out invitations when I'm taken.

Please RSVP.

Now back to your
regularly scheduled
pro-
gram.