oldies but goodies.










i guess it began like most of the long, drawn-out and lazy days of summer that had thus far transpired before the ambling and yet by now, less than inquisitve globes rotating fore of my skull. as a herald of the earths' unaltered and unerring orbit, the morning star once more mounted its' azure pedestal {throne}, however, on this particular day with an unrivaled reluctance and an idle glory formerly reserved for the ilk of indolent kings and emperors. casting its' {adjective} rays unto the earth like so many mystics' {divining} bones, it appeared (and not surprisingly so) to portend the slow passing of yet another day; one marked by lackluster, and laden as it were with the golden weight of the summer sun, a propensity for slothful indulgence.



...




4:35. the digits appeared a spectral harbinger, refulgent amidst the inky, thick {...thick, oozing...} darkness from which it so strikingly set itself apart...these numbers, so seemingly innocuous, had been branded onto the backs of my eyelids. [the sputter and sizzle of burnt flesh and the subsequent raised, distinct discolouration to follow, a grisly keepsake to memorialize the dissolution of my autonomy. rustled from the lush, pleasant, rolling sylvan valleys and hills of unconsciousness, i was violently and abruptly driven to a ceaseless wandering under the heavy hand and greedy, watchful eye of sleeplesness. insomnia had left its' indelible mark...]



























ae.