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[21 Jun 2008|03:55pm] |
Four anti biotics a day. On an empty stomach. How am I supposed to carry that out and eat at the same time? My choler has been provoked, I am annoyed. By pills, by work, by the heat. There is nothing to enjoy about the weekend. The only thing I rely on to get me through is knowing it's all money towards my future.
Roll on the autumn, when the air is fit to breathe again. Not this stinking, slurping humidity.
It's been busy, and it's going to get worse. Seventy this afternoon, probably the same or worse tonight. Busy tomorrow, busy all the fucking time.
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[21 Jun 2008|04:36pm] |
Hooray! And now the connection keeps disconnecting every five seconds! And the fury I went into lead me to hit the door with my injured finger!
JUST GETS BETTER AND CUNTING BETTER, DOESN'T IT?
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[21 Jun 2008|06:44pm] |
Well, I must go back to it again. Again. And again. And again. Until the end of goddamned time.
I'm sorry if this diary looks gloomy today. I don't mean it to. Weekends are not my strong point. Lend me an ear sometime, maybe i'll whisper a lustful breeze to you, stroke back the hair and etch my divinity upon you so sublimely as you would cradle me in the morning.
It is the death of love which suits our risen sun. She coughs out gold and bleeds me through the floor. With each torn dream comes a new ache, an ache heard from every heartbeat, and every corner of my body.
See you later.
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