twelve-oh-one and the dork(s)

Some Times, opening yer eyes in the morning is a total Woo-Hoo :-)
then, the next day, there's significantly less Woo-Hoo involved, so ya crawl under the bed and cry, while cutting yerself with a dull and filthy kitchen knife (the one ya keep hidden in the back tank of the toilet), scanning a completely blurred, scrawled, illegible map of tomorrows' Woo-Hoo eye-openings, and considering in yer mind the ingredients required for a nice human-sacrificial blood magic to shift the shape of time and space to yer advantage...
but only sometimes. sometimes ya just blog the thought and fantasize that that's what ya'd be doing if ya had half an imagination and a more romantic outlook (not the butterflies-and-daffodils kind).
hello... Hello?
damned gods and their draconic calm and patience... (seven YEARS? twenty-four? ha-HA!)
veruca salt!

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