Dragoncaller (dragoncaller) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

As the sky sets to gloaming

and the moon burns like magic, the caldron boils wickedly, casting off ghosts and witches dreams.

Pell work today suddenly unlocked a power level that I didn't know I'd lost. I could throw harder and harder still and I felt there was more to throw. I eased off the throttle only to focus on moving, foot work and shield placement, but the little man in my head was chanting, 'Must hit sick, must hit ugly'; consuming all other thoughts. I had to tear myself away. It's still weeks away from the Mayhem at Mudthaw: The battle against emt_hawk. Mustn't over do it.... Yet.

Later, I did some hot tub time, watching the trees slowly turn to black, craggy lines against a quickening sky, the final orange glow radiating off in the distance while Billy Joel sang to me,

'Honesty, is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue."

Sing it, Billy. I'm hearing you.

I took tomorrow off so today is my Friday. Usually the binge drinking would begin and a host of Gentlemen, Bass ales, would line up for me. It felt a little lonely to be without them. All the more reason to be without them. I'll call for them when I want them, not the other way around.

A stressful day bled into the caressing, bubbling waters. I chewed up some Excedrine for lunch and chocked them down on a dry throat. Not the chewable kind, mind you. It's still hard to hear over the screaming headache.

Turn it up, Bill. Turn it up.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.