When you're tired of cancer, you're tired of life!

cold

cold - Cold. I'm cold. But I'm used to it. But I'm cold. Neither of them could answer, but that fact neatly describes a comet's orbit, it could be another tens of thousands of years out of sight

saying doesn't excuse - it wasn't meant to be, it wouldn't work, it's precluded - so thinking of the past is a pathetic fallacy and self-torture even if the present is sterile

A wave without a period ~ exclamation marks look happy - toothless satire - gumming nutri-chalk for vitamins and anti-depressants - i know where my towel is ~ skimming the depths of anti-deps - the ocean is cold

it's never been this mundane and habitual and anti-social and lack of novel - and thinking of the past is like suckling a pacifier topped with razor wire - time funnels toward the gravity well of my future oblivion - perhaps i'll die at 60, which means i'm late for mid-life crisis - one more lashing out against the cold, then acceptance, possibilities precluded - so what do i do then, to lash out? because i need to do something, it's a lesson i'm supposed to learn, the universe is saying, there's not going to be some catalyst that comes along, there may have been before, but you can't extrapolate the past, you can't believe in luck

mustard gas led to chemo drugs

Whisky. Neat.

the fantasy doesn't work, which i should be grateful for. Seeing things coldly. Knowing there'd be no point going back to the bottle, the euphoria far too muddied and fleeting, the consequences horrendous, simply delirium and a roulette wheel of wedges denoting damage and betrayal. But I still savor the sound of the clink of the icecubes in my head, the music of the tumbling liquid, stinging solvent, distilled beverage, neat. The terminology. The paraphernalia. Sobriety precludes, but still allows one to remain in a halfway state of self-torture.

Fighting pre-cancer, cause I got the leisure of not having cancer, it's just this life of leading up to cancer, the verb, the way of death, the fragile state of innocent cells doing their best in an entropic war of attrition, still loyal, for now, still able to withstand the toxic shock, smoke em while you got em.