I Think I Saw a Vomiting Crab, or: Too Many Windows, Not Enough Cigarettes

The morning coffee continues to pulse through me with a fluidity unrivaled by its peers. Two burritos over the last 24 hours and nothing else cant help either, but its the principle of the matter (or slush, if you will) that haunts me. I spend countless hours pondering its texture, revelling in its myriad of shades, its cobblestone / puzzle patterns, little dark brown nodules attached to sepia swathes of crumbling integrity, the scent measured out with the overpowering oranganic spray that every loo in the billding gotz. Yes, it has been a glorious work week for bowel movements.

A Patty Melt Covered in Flies