A sip of serotonin.

The days of putting pen to paper have been consigned to nostalgia and now I am left with a text message that brings words to life. I have just entered a liquor store and have purchased a new stream of consciousness for the princely sum of ten dollars. Tennessean reality injected into mine. As it takes hold I go from kite runner to full metal jacket. My endorphins pull back the sheets, put both feet on the floor and start to dance a merry tune. The pistons fire up and the guilt is filed in the drawer marked TOMORROW.

The room once empty now begins to glow. The fridge purrs. And this motherfucking cat is about to miaow.

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