the cats are playing pool, a constant clack clacking of all the balls together,

 in that world outside my own now,

outside the door.

Dan Tickner, the muse. My muse, he walked inside my room today while I was laying here I tore the fabric of space time jumping up.

What is it like to drink whiskey with ghosts? The same as it is always, to read lost words of lovers or, to relive past lives every 5 years just in case you've missed something.

and the relentless clack clacking of the pool balls in my ears is enough to drive me mad, and the buzzing of a new love and the snoring of an old love are melding together seamlessly with the fucking

RAGE

that is engulfing me.

I gave my whole life to one man and he threw it away,

like nothing.

I've been chasing this my whole life

and now all I can hope to ask for is

something that's funny or

something that rhymes...