in the blur of swiftly folded shirts and condescending customers. I've fooled myself into thinking this was good enough for a while now, and just recently broke out of the spell with the aid of beer and cigarettes. Tomorrow, I ready myself for change. Tomorrow, I break free and explode into a future of uncertainty and promise.
Or I get drunk and write some. Either way.
Loving Daisy. Came around on it. Sick of Boss sucking the testosterone from my nutsack, but I'll get used to that too. Or not. Peace bitches.
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