A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Colonel Kurtz' dream of the snail and the razor-blade jacked up on diet mountain dew, the red kind. funny that knocking down two liters or more of the stuff in a few hours doesn't tear my stomach to shreds anymore like the old regular kind used to when i worked at the old factory way back when. tonight i can kill the alarm so that it will not force my hand and drag me into the morning against my will. when sleep finally wins out over my unwillingness to let it overtake me, it will have me until i've no choice but to obey whatever factor wakes me in the meantime, in the words of Alkaline Trio "maybe i'll catch fire" 12:04 a.m. - 2003-07-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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