'Hello darkness, my old friend,
Ive come to talk with you again'
Open eyes that are red. Definitely not allergies. Brush teeth vehemently to get rid of that bad taste. A taste of feeling stale. Rotten. Snap back to the present. Gulp down a mug of tea and two cups of coffee. Nothings gonna get rid of the gulp in your throat. Fade away. Snap back to the present. Trudge these halls, one heavy foot after another. Be real, be real. Ashes. Lance. Meetings. Take paper and pencil to write notes, but end up with a blank page. Soup. Hope it stays down. Throbbing head. More coffee. Wish for cigarettes. Numbers numbers. Code. Perspiration. There's the bad taste again. Oh fuck. Snap back to the present. Stay here goddammit.
How many times does one travel in his head if one is away?
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