Biting My Tongue
Steam rises up ftom the coffee filter making the promise that the day is, in fact, livable. August has been an utter bitch of a month--bloody and with a sadistic sense of humor--and I don't feel like sacrficing any more time to her relentless maw.
There's little in my head this morning that doesn't resemble incoherent rage. I am displeased with you all, and far from content in any quarter.
This coffee will allow me to mask my true self long enough to hack though another day. If I'm lucky I'll come out the other side of the obligtions with just enough will left to start carving my intent on the world before surrendering back to the stony grip of a dreamless sleep.