0813 mood :
i can't sleep in anymore 
chased out of bed by dull throbs: 
haunted by leftovers under a blu-lit dawn
im a curator of dogs, dreaming 
a pan-handler saving up slivers 
drop forged into adorations 
of the breaths in this bed 
it pains me to leave; it pains me to stay 

im watching a video of the b-52's 
Rock lobster, back before it was a household name 
and the subject of glib referential humor 
masturbatory lineage: proud to be ashamed 
back before the first Flintstones movie came out.
I can't help but wonder what John Goodman's heart doctor is like 
perhaps a bit kind 
just enough to be a medical professional 

it's the last day of a normal weekend (

I'm not sure that people are naturally collaborative beyond a tribal level, and I AM sure that a great deal of conscious effort is to be made every day to trade instinct for idea,

and it's ideas that give our species its remarkability; it's ideas through which our greatness is rendered.

)