i love it when the body fails

this capillary life:

take everything harsh and depressing and produce a finished product in a clean but sincere and indepenent manner. and she's milk, and she's apples. i'm scotch and brandy and instigation. the lip disintegrates! the throat closes up purposively! and strange things grow on skin you didn't even know you had. the itch twitches with spite. i'd cut off all my hair, everywhere, if it weren't for clean walls and their depressing digressions.

but i love it when the body fails! falling newsletters keep a record of it all. vague internet posting helps seal the deal, with understanding lacking because of the final crush that the audiance doesn't care. build me a buliding! help it stay clean, though. because if you give me the keys but no instructions, than what good are you anyways. i'd rather have the experience, anyways, not just the dime-dozen naming of a project, a prospect. i wish we had mutants 10 all over again.

that was all pre-shower. now, this is all post-shower:

feeling cleaner makes the body good, but makes the mind muddle, the hangover bubbles. does this even matter anymore? ahhhh, no. maybe? to be continued