crashcymbal

i stumbled into work, bleary and broken from too little sleep, too many sketches.
the ache in my side was growing, eating away at my kidney, my liver, whatever I couldn't tell. guess it's from all the pretzels. it's all i can handle these days. my guts are rotting in situ. haven't slept in months. insomnia trapping me, i stay up. creating.
sketches, writing. trying to avoid the pretentions and cliches, so common place....
yet this is full of them....a plot done to death...i cant help it. no sleep comes as i try to dodge these words, try to find new ways of saying, writing, drawing....allusions, metaphors, similes.

someone let off a crashcymbal by my ear. please.
wake me from soporific lows, sparkling highs.
the world is full of crashing bores, cries the lyricist.
wax on/wax off.
fly away, fly away home
*clickclick*

moodhightothehoodcitybanksmoke