(no subject)

[garote]

The empty sockets sing to me, from the four corners of my mouth. They sing the Ripped Up And Bleeding song. They are my constant little companions here in my room. It is amazing, for their size. They sing louder than anything I think about.

So I listen to each one in turn, then the chorus. How are you? Still bloody? Still ripped upo? Glad to hear it.

Thankfully the headache went away when I stopped taking the Vicadin.