If I Wasn't Me, I'd Want To Have A Baby With Me.

And not just because I read a lot of books, either. Don't you hate when you have a civil war of the mind? Lighting that cigarette while considering its cellular effects? Wanting to trust but fearing betrayal (cherchez la femme and a such a couple more)? Looking forward to writing about three days of anal but feeling compelled to describe the arcane entre nous found between strangers sharing the same deepest darkest? Fuck it; I have to work tomorrow, so I guess I'll sublimate. I meant that to be "sleep."