trust me when i tell you that im waiting for the hammer to plunge from great heights directly upon my head. there is no way possible days like these havent a repercussive nature, like some sort of aesop tail of morality, bifurcated swinging impishly from side to side off the ass end of the day- mucking the shit out of the all the hard work youve laid into building a foundation of goodness and gregarious nature. like the days can have a soul, like those days could haunt you in some sort of poltergeist like manner, as if the end result of all the good and harmonious feelings were a disruption to the preset karmic laws of your existence. its called preternatural organic paranoia. and ive got it real hard. its called fear of success. and it doomed me from the womb. its a skin too few.

money? check
girl? check
new pedals for the moped? check
food in the belly and fridge? check and check

what else is there really?