..of these every droopy eyes aching to close down at every possible opportunity. Every instant seems to pull me down to eternal laziness. Nothing seems to be motivating. An upset stomach, well protected by a thick layer of fat deposit, caused probably by eating upto ten bars of chocolate a day,, Tired legs and hands, an ever clogged throat, which i put the blame on for my notorious singing skills, Lazy molecules of blood with less counts of hemoglobin, a seriously unconnected brain which always does the right thing at exactly the wrong time, a memory with slow fetch cycles and zero error correction, and a mind walking through the blurred thin line between the two sides of sanity.
'Sick' is the perfect word to print on the label.
I guess, I am really sick. Still I refuse to believe.
I guess a gentle caress on the back of my neck, through my hair, is all I want.
Thats all it takes.
It is far, far better than a handjob.