Sunday, May 31, 2009


Sometimes I think that that it's gotten too late,
That it's my fate,
When in fact it is always late
And always my fault.
I used to go to bed at odd times,
But now I find the time is always pretty near,
No matter what.
I have nothing to catch up with tomorrow
And nothing is catching up with me tonight
Except this deep cold death-like sleep.

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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)