Weird stuff is happening in my mind and body. I feel as if I've somehow graduated from anti-social to lurker, and my thoughts are getting streamlined and condensed; hammering repetitiously though my brain day in and day out. I need a light at the end of the tunnel. I need to set something on fire. Coffee and muffins no longer excite me and the disapproving looks that I'm receive while I mutter obscenities under my breath, are beginning to become more frequent. I've been watching people around me grab it and run with it; have they already attended that creative writing workshop in the sky? Does any of this make any sense? Are these rhetorical questions? At what point did the Motorcycle Boy drift from being a softspoken mystery-stud to a Joan Rivers nightmare? Can coffee throw you over the edge of sanity and into a pit of fast-paced and frequent bathroom trip despair?
Alright, so shit is messy and its clear to see that the cliff ends a few inches away. Luckily for me ebay has been the safety rope reeling me back in, and although my bank account would like to slap me in the face, bank accounts are not exactly tangible things that can act out on emotion and reason. Like a true American, I've found consolation in consumption.
The Whispers - Tonight
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