The morning addiction expected fulfillment and now the clenched jaw. Dark blue angry eyes reconcile a cold shouldering through emptiness until she returns sometime around noon. Dopamine postponed, morning reputed. Every damn photon will be shut out until an effective use is consumable. The news delivers with audible noise of her routine of choosing. Sight unseen, late afternoon is the end of passivity diffusing the daemon. Ugly as each of the upcoming sins and other civil breaches at the wrong end of needs being denied their right to survival. The fault always points north if the poles switch in time. Why is there talking when our cup has run dry? What is this question with a want of words to answer? This is gaslighting - the very worst of humanity's distasteful clown actions... This isn't yelling don't ignite another California fire! What is a sorry if it 's a melted puddle of whatever is in it's bubble? The value again built up for a future dismantling of how a being wakes up. Without Folgers in my cup. 

© Alien.S