“The lannnnguage of loooove has left me stony gray. Tongue-tied and twisted at the price I’ve had to pay e aaay. Dumb hearts get broken just like china cups. The language of loooooooooooooooove has left me broken on the rocks.” —Annie Lennox
That was yesterday.
And a lot of days leading up to it, admittedly.
One of those turning points, you know, when the universe seems to have blotted your name from the roster. . . the blood barely moves through your veins. . .a bag of that birdshot ingested as if from a dystopian short story.
And so you sit with that for awhile. You drag yourself from task to task, heart pumping chunks of plastic and acid, stomach turning over and over. . .and the tremors and trembling. . .
If there is an ounce of mercy in this universe, let me evaporate please. I want to go home.
All the while the friends floating in the ether around you. . .