27/28- The morning after
Oblique Strategy: Disciplined self-indulgence
27- the morning after
the morning after
every whir sounds like a drill
every clang of the pipes in the walls sounds like a hammer trying to break through
but there are no nails
the morning after
every rumble outside sounds like helicopters patrolling
searchers in the night
the morning after, every glint of light outside the window
seems like it could be the whites of predator's eyes
silently stalking and waiting to strike
every new noise has it drawing closer
the morning after, sleep feels unobtainable
ushering yourself into the awaiting jaws of death
but you have to shrug it off
and put on the radio