the rain and the vodka.
the recent limitations of life.
I listen to some.
I don't listen to others.
it's a wonderfully strange cameo.
with a time-capsule effect.
of taking you back 20 years.
a typewritten letter given to him.
I need to sleep for like ten days.
and then wake up and create.
the flashing lights of the fires of trucks.
reflect in the wet cement of the parking lot.
someone probably died in one of the other offices.
maybe it was that guy Erik who only mentions the day.
when he passes in the hall.
Tuesday, am I right?
and here I am just staring out the window.
wishing.
bribe me with silence
as my anxiety is loud in my head.
I want to run.
hit Chicago hard.
take a break from drinking and music.
and then wake up and create.
the flashing lights of the fires of trucks.
reflect in the wet cement of the parking lot.
someone probably died in one of the other offices.
maybe it was that guy Erik who only mentions the day.
when he passes in the hall.
Tuesday, am I right?
and here I am just staring out the window.
wishing.
bribe me with silence
as my anxiety is loud in my head.
I want to run.
hit Chicago hard.
take a break from drinking and music.