[ laid-off, bad cough, bob dylan, what a villain... get born ]
ever so thirsty. it's pretty strange: looking glasses, that is. reflections. reality. water. bloat-belly proteins. no shoes. big moons. cartoons. zanzibar. old car. shiny pants. ant dance. uh... okay, so i like senyor dylan, no throat, billy goat. outta tune, open woun..d. he helps me think. in the background. even without attention, the patterns wash away confusion. like a heartbeat. echoing in my ears. allaying my fears. filling cups. forcing me to see just how much i'm brimming with it all.
hrm... that is one problema with these pesky metaphors. they start to overlap when you mess with 'em enough. the half-fullness issue only matters with mugs. but the glass, the glass is definitely still full. couldn't be any other way. no matter how much we drink. no matter how much stumbles and spills. it rains so darn much. it stays full. hehe... even if it's never quite over-flowing, it's full beyond repair. |
