(on ogi pond)

My brain is the torn skin of a tourniquet, hours later and buried under the last glass of the accident.

And it seems in all these memories there's nothing for this moment at all. no anecdote. no trolling face. nothing but space between my morning star and an evening devoid (seemingly) of fate.

This things can happen i suppose.

I can just sit here wondering nothing at all. too ready to sleep. too tired to get my head straight and make more of the day than joy at being with the ones i love in the right way.

Because this is my time, goddamnit.

And i can waste it as well as anything.