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hey, you

you know that half-baked look that resembles a stoney/sleepy wanderer of the kitchen/the guy who fumbles/stumbles/grumbles/mumbles to himself before he’s found the right way in/the door swings and he’s left, staring into light and begging for ‘it’ to jump out/who calls but the skim/skinny/watered-down breast-fed bottle and he knows it’s time for shopping– whenever he has an oppurtunity and savings enough to go.

despite the years in masking
for your happiness

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musings & scribbles