Never Fight Over A Severed Head

Power. Flowing. Rolling. Moving around and poking the little dried up bits of doubt and confusion. A cleansing scar producing fire of blink proof interest. I see it. I saw it all day. Like well-groomed zombies only they are smiling at the sun and ready to dance as soon as the hairnets come off. Others, I see, are also aware of the peaceful daze and its inducement of thoughts boxed away until the yard sale of the heart. A little voice, though not sober, told me a sobering story. Of friends and friends being worried. I am trying to get rid of troubles. To rebuild. We will see. I was a little voice and I hinted that things might be sweet, improving, getting better than expected. All those sights, encased.It just sucks that I am not in the minds I think of as much as those I fail to remember enough. That is a stupid and selfish thing to say. But that is what drove me to the keyboard. Now that urge has been indulged and expunged. I am going to have a sub.