Doom and gloom
Waiting for the static
The hum of confusion
The smell of woman
A close neck to kiss...
Dreams to crush
What have I become?
I don't even know this stranger in the mirror...
who is robbing me of my soul.
"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often." — Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
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