sus cheques ahora

i wake up, and look
upon your painted eyelids
the world is your oyster
and the trashbags are your kids

one of the mornings where i wake up and feel that i am surrounded by filth. slowly, methodically clean my body, calculating. then decide which pieces of furniture are responsible for this and throw carry them away, into the storage room. sweep the floors and vacuum, wash most of the dishes, then feel that i've proven my point and agree that yes, let's roll a small one.

-one of these days we're going to have a dinner party...
-yeah
-and i'm going to serve edamame the first course, then the guests are going to know that we're classy. like not one of those...

in the pub with some white collar workers who need the booze more than i do, we'd get into arguments of the type:
-now from an air pollution perspective, if all of the coal-fired...
-now wait, can you name one case...
-i mean statistically, if we average...
-but...
-right, zero cases. every one is special, but if you're a gambler you want to know...

when jupiter created the world, he hung a wallet behind our backs that contains our faults, and everyone else's wallet hangs from their necks.

you are special, i am special, but averaged together we are base and shameful.