Stoned again staring at this screen avoiding work like the plague of ants our rotting corpes will one day be trampled by. For now, Jets To Brazil is keeping my mind running round' the yard. I was supposed to me more grown up than this, what the hell happened?

Can't stop thinking about the breakup and how Sarah and I are treating each other. I wake and it's there in the hazey dawn. When my head hits the pillow hy brain shatters like a pinata full of bad thoughts sent to keep me from sleep.

At least I'm building an ashtray monument with a shrine to High Life & PBR. When I turn on the lights in here the cockroaches might knock it down as they run. Haven't felt this alone in some years, almost forgot what it is like.

dammnit