Secret Pop

Oct 10, 2002

Penguins cry ice cube tears.

Too hot. Too cold. I'm mired in the extremes. So tired I know I won't sleep. Hungry but unmotivated by it. The weeks speed by and plod on endlessly. I can't seem to set my watch properly. I don't wear a watch, but that was a metaphor.

And there's never a shortage of ill-mannered neighbors who have no sense of what time it is.

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