Got back on the horse tonight, meaning I sent the beast out again. Click. And with it every wish I’ve ever had since I wrote my first pear. A good friend recently said, all you can do is get it out there. I am a murderer of dreams. So, here it is, the foot on the other shoe, the cake you made, now sleep in it. We must, we must, we must increase out bust. This is your brain, this is your brain on submission. The only bad review is no review. Does the word matter if it sits in your desk, if your desk belonged to Jackie O, if the night and sleep are the best part of the day only you can’t sleep. The bed is cold. Your nightgown holds on to its last button. Where is the Benadryl? Click and you are dust, you are golden, you are sitting on the train, and out of the left window a sunrise that means absolutely nothing. This is not a sign.
Do you see signs?
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