nicotine patch, is there a gum for the kryptonite slime that is hanging on the inside of this jacket tonight. and will the drops of booze in this bottle please refrain me from making the same mistakes. cant even blame the bottle because i am soberly indulging in the waste case that has a name but we'll choose to forget it here because its not worthy of uttering and will most likely cause more trouble, another sling shot of heavenly put together crap all intertwined with the wine and dine of such sexual energy, sexual energy. the freckle of disgust that seems to saunter off in a beauty mark sort of way has the mind swayed for hours, days, weeks... right on the verge of absolute expectancy and yet each and every time the bridge goes down my heart sinks and i feel the welling of inappropriate emotions and what the hell in the world is going on within the stars that will not connect to dots and the insides of a stubborn heart that will not just throw in the towel and saunter into oblivion or the rational being that will not claim the fame and walk away from such blasphemy. marvel in the unravelling of my yarn heart and the dirty cat with awful whiskers keeps swatting at the strings all the while encouraging people and places and meaning nothing to anyone and nothing to no one and running away from everything that probably would easily support and cheer for their accomplishments in the entire soiree of their lives, but why beckon to such hopefulness when you can scratch the hand that feeds you, you will no doubt scratch the hand that wants to kiss you.