The world has turned a flat faded drabbish shade of bland. Blood doesn’t feel like it’s flowing through my veins, but seeing as I’m still here and still very much awake, there must be something moving inside.

I’ve not much of anything to say, I’m just awake and passing the time. The words are all sitting around patiently thumbing through magazines and waiting to be arranged, but I’ve taken a seat in the corner of the lobby, watching incognito, amused at their timing as they lounge with their newspapers and pipes and monocles and makeup mirrors. They rarely show up anymore, but here they are in style and there’s just no fire in me to put them to good use.

And so this post ends, disappointingly uninspired and unimaginative. But, hey, the universe is a little better for it. For fifteen minutes, a little order pushed aside a little chaos.

. . . 

Goodnight. Good morning. Whatever. 


Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

2 thoughts on “4:33am”

    1. Yes, you can because regardless of how anyone else might think, I laughed out loud. And I sure needed it. And this is my blog, bruhthuh (that looks weird), so say whatever you like.


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