I went to my room, got undressed, crept into bed and started reading form my book. Then it dawns on me that I'm not as tired as I wished I were, that kind of tired that necessitates getting into bed with a book because sleep isn't too far away. I took two antihistamines about an hour or so ago for my sinuses (yes, they're still on strike), so I should be getting sleepy - but no.
So I get irritated, which ultimately leads me to thinking about things a bit too much and that is NEVER good. If you lived in my skull, you'd get that one. As it is, there are only about 5 people in the world who probably do.
I got a good stock photo of a naked Barbie doll that I'm going to absolutely disembowel and make look like some nightmare form a Tool video tomorrow for my weekend Photoshop project. I'm going to call it "Robin: Underneath It All".
In the past couple of days I feel like the sausage that comes out of the emotional meat grinder, kind of like the students in "The Wall". I'm tired and have no appetite for crap. Between my family, my friends, and the acquaintances that I dig but have little patience for, I have concluded one thing.
Be thankful people, that I don't give into some of the shit I think of doing, or else there would be a lot fewer of you polluting my sanctity.
I'm not responsible for the actions of other people, only my reactions to them. Quite frankly, I'm getting a little threadbare and weary from being as nice as I normally am. I'm idling at resentful, simmering at spiteful, and find myself waiting for the one that comes along one day to pet the nice little doggie a bit too close for his liking...
This is the result of me stuffing my frustration and anger into a cast iron stomach already overflowing with it and noticing that there's a crack in there that I can only stave off for so long.
Banquet of uncertainties
rich with absolutes
the colors of my sanctity
are as seasonal as fruits
won't someone reveal me now
and seat me at my table
to carve the beast of my frustration
and devour if I'm able...