It is hard to sleep again. Maybe because I can't quite find a comfortable position with my shoulder, or that I stink from my worcestyshire sauce supper. But I want to mostly blame it on the humidity.
It just seems like I hear Mahler's "Ich bin von der Welt abhanden gekommen" in my head wherever I go. My intro is mostly lame, so I need to talk about mahler, something, someone, a thought to distract my mind from sleeplesness. or maybe just a mug of hot milk and honey.

He took a kitchen knife
and poked a kinch
into the tomatoe
probing for parasites
anyways
he felt that life we perceive
are polaroid snapshots
one at a time
developing the present
through the hard pressed memories
reacting to the emotion
of self awareness

Lovely how I can spit such redundant poetry into the space if my mind when my eyes are clogging with tiredness. And then there is always that presssure to include god somewhere here. but he isn't like that. if god was here, I wouldn't be real, or that is he would be talking to fake. not that I am wishing him away. its just I feel quite not adequate for the most sanctimonious abstract in all of man's conception. god is not even that. so how can I feel like this would be a right time for god to be in my polarois snapshot. in other words, how rude would that be?