so here I am, fantasizing about tapping howard stern on the nuts swiftly with my boot

when I realize, it is four in the morning, and that's the hour between hours,

it's not three, three...you go to sleep and its fine

five... you say i'll just stay up and greet the dawn, why not?

four the one, the hour, things make sense at this hour, its strange

the audition  is a....football throw through a touchdown post covered by fog and faces of loved ones

and the white room extends, there are no ultimatums, and there is just listless eternal non existence- as in....existing

and, I don't blame anyone, I have a few things that are okay..

I wish for more... I yearn for something that I cannot have

and seedlessly jaded with hot coffeee

I'll be alright