Good Morning, Sugar Bowl ~ Thursday, August 6, 2026
First thing, in the morning, I cut a line in the morning, a razor blade, Franklin religiously, a novena, nine days suffer the rosary, mirror supine taste the sweetness, Walter, my dad is dead think you know better child, a shot of Glen hollow within, embrace the creep, displays in the windows as I pass on the street now, am I awake or asleep, instead given nothing matters but delusion illusory, hit a bump in the road nothing but confusion, this illusion this imaginary throne, take a seat heated as a carseat in wintertime emissary of the devil, barn owl millions and millions in the bank, I sank on the golf course, a hole in one, my crime rests with the defense in a court of law normal, this morning routine runs afoul in the eyes of observers, still I drank needlessly, to numb my body of pain given I scuttle with my ragged claw I drink as a dictum, get drunk and high cupidity with a bottle of gin understand, dear reader, how much it pays to stay alive, healthy, and not decline asinine, m...