(lightened eyes)

My brain is the shell-shocked home of those unfettered masses of humanity who still drink and breathe and thrive in the strange hollow annals of the rock and roll revelry for no fucking reason more than to remind us all that we are so fucking alive sometimes it should kill us where we stand (half-bowed and bruised for show).

In this burned sunday, i am in love with everything.

Even though there are spare hours left to sleep. even though i should be drunk. even though my life's taken such unexpected turns it's a wonder why i can still breathe in the torrid face of the lonely mornings i'm bound to see again.

And again.

And right now i don't give a damn just because there's no reason why i fucking should.

Why should i care to?

These hours are just too perfect to let go...