trying to get some air, i encountered a spider, fat one, wrapping a fat red beetle in its webbing. i watched, knowing where my nightmare might come from. so why, now, does the other fat black one find its way to me, twice, like imma givim somthing he needs. cant suck my blood, hopes, cannhe?
things used to really seem so poetical, at times, when i had a more predictable schedule of mania. now, i praddel out somethings or anothers, keepinem to myslef, mostly, and m wandering where my inspiration's gone.
