Aforementioned, dinner at Godpa's.
On the way, there was this mafakking standstill jam right.
Turns out, there was an accident.
There was a mangled body of a man on the road, covered in a black plastic bag.
I was suddenly glad I didn't eat all day.
It's not like I haven't seen an accident before, but this was way too close for comfort.
The car was not more than 4feet away from the body.
Along the whole street, there were motorcyclists, rempits and civilized alike, just watching, half of them freaking out.
It's funny how death brings people together.
I am Johns' raging bile duct.

I need to stop sleeping so damn late.
Been trying to make my smokes last at least 3 days.
So far, NO good. At all.
Everyday I'm off to get another box.
I am beyond fucked.
I am Johns' lung cancer.

I think I need an injection of some sort.
No, I am not doing drugs.
I just think I need to up my immunity.
Or I'm going to keep contracting all sorts of illnesses.
Nah'uh, not my cuppa tea.
I am John's failing liver.

I am way into Chuck Palahniuk.
And I think I have found my soulmate.
I swear.

Okay, I need to force myself to sleep now.

;; youve got this new head filled up with smoke,
Ive got my veins all tangled close,
to the jukebox bars you frequent,
the safest place to hide,
a long night spent with your most obvious weakness,
you start shaking at the thought,
you are everything I want,
cause you are everything I'm not.