never ending cynicism upon a tide of sea salts…I look at everything and everyone and see myself within their faults. backwash the liquid, my saliva coated with venoms. my teeth drip and the vomit of my mouth explains why.. let’s all label each other and die by it, I made my bed but refuse to lie by it. Am I giving up and relinquishing my imagination by writing? Am I living up to the expectations of my loved ones, even though I feel like hiding? my dark room is so serene.. an observatory of nothing, stars would keep me wide eyed and I have no time for that. I’m beat. I’m sleepy. I’m in need of affection. I’ve caught the bug. The ones on my bed. Soul seeping. Alarm beeping. I’m drained like my sinus infection. Blah.