it reads back different then it comes out. it always does. and i don’t write as much as i used to. twitter even borders on silence. and it’s dark and sleepy. of long days. doing what it takes. and it’s eyes growing heavy searching for the song to close them. from yesterday to back again. hundreds. of monsters and men. and it’s always and. repeating. songs of dusty times past. butted up against sparse dark drums. echoing in minimalism. and falling asleep in cars.