in the pink

slept with the light on last night. things just didn't feel right. too many people screaming crazy in the street below at 3am, i think. and too much of the screaming crazy was reflected and amplified into my shipping container at 3am also, i think.
that and part of me didn't trust that my little tree house wouldn't eat me alive if i were to turn out the light.
not sure why.
i need a motherfucking straw to suck this down faster.
and harder.
can't quite handle it all without half dribbling down my chin. how typical. you know.

the weekend, which ended just yesterday, was dirty and messy and totally wild and great and exactly what i needed.
i'm still chewing but exhausted - after a day of work, i'm only nearly two thirds of the way through the new photos.
my quivering new material. the freshest of fresh and carbolic-scummed carne, just waiting for a thorough gnashing.
i warned you i would try to eat you alive, didn't i? backwards, as well. and good for me.

i'm hoping white noise will be enough of a defense to keep the room from swallowing me whole tonight.

alone again for the first time and the lights are enough to keep me artificially alive with just a nagging hint of unconscious ruminations. my dreams are better than they've been in a long time.
thank you. :*