I'm vibrating. My head is push-pulling me in funny circles. I see the future laid out in front of me and I want to crush and kill it. I've got a weak stomach and weaker legs. I'm seriously thinking of floundering into oblivion. The world's oyster has been sucked dry. I wonder if that thing even cares inside her. Although I'm doubting it more every minute. A Funny Sunday, a Stupid Weekend. I predict next Saturday to be one of the worst yet. Nothing much can top that day a year ago. I miss those days but I don't, because I can never go back. Especially now. Emptyness of a drain pipe, serving water selflessly into the night.
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