Yesterday I starting to write about this great run I was going to have, and I was attempting to salt my language with all of these positive metaphors. Work found me sidetracked, and now, 24 hours later I am full of none of that positive energy.

For some reason I am not drinking coffee, maybe its that. Maybe my body is filled with this sick toxins that is making me inept to reason right now, or sanity. Maybe its more.

I am shaking and upset, unhappy and unkind. Unsettling restlessness. I am back to waking up at 6, like an invisible hammer has been laid to my psyche. Six, BAM! like fucking clock work. cue fucking annoying bird outside my window making his "Tsk Tsk" noises over and over. Its better than monday, were I woke up at 2, then 3, then 4, then 5. I remember 2 because that is a time I almost never wake up at. Three sure, 4? Who doesnt wake up in the middle of the night for some reason or another. But never two. I actually just stared at the clock for a spell. "Two?, fucking two?" It was enough to make me stare at the ceiling a little bit more.

Hi ceiling, dark shadow of a ceiling, though I had made the unfortunate mistake of removing all the material that I had been using to cover the windows, trusting that the blinds themselves would hold make the artificial light that somehow finds itself flooding out of god knows were at two oclock in the morning.

Probably fucking Wick, my weird ass coke head neighbor. Yea, he is out there digging a hole, "making a pond man, yea, making a pond." Or perhaps he is furthering along the disassembling of his gf's house that he is "turning around. Yea man, I can make 150,000 like that. I have sold several houses." Really? How come before you came along she had a big screen tv, and less weird shit in the back yard, and perhaps appeared a little less depressed, (cue to her, in sweats, stained, alone with her dogs, sitting on the back stoop smoking, again, weight gain noticeable, hair unkempt.)

Her dogs are taking over. You can watch as they piss and shit were they like: our yard, neighbors yard, a house ten houses a way, wherever they damn well please. Oreo: the leader. Black and white, short body, big head. Sometimes a blackened with dirt sweater. Bars when he damn well please. Abby: the dumb follower. Brown dirty hair matted. over fed, second to oreo, but still master of the house. and then another dog. One i never see, but i feel its presence.
These dogs are called at all hours, all times. Seven A.M. is late for these dogs to be out and about. More like three, four, when the fuck ever. And there our neighbor is, yelling at them, "abby, oreo!!" in a cadence so recognizable by my girlfriend and I that we say it in our sleep, "abby...grump...oreo hmph" and roll back over. When i can, but right now, oh now.
PHONES RINGING!!!!!