Four o’clock in the morning and yet again I find myself wondering if sleep is but a myth. Some scurrilous rumor or lurid deception propagated by the right thinking and sound of intellect.

Good health and happiness. Bah!

Fairy tales.

I live in trauma town where there are nothing but shambling night terrors and carnivorous plants.

Still. It must be said. Such creatures make fine company for the increasingly demented and unsound of mind.

At the very least, they do not bore me.


Sweet dreams sweet world.


Whippoorwill. I think.