42nd street

tonight on my way home i ate an entire bag of gummy worms. i just couldn't stop. i didn't even try to stop. i kept chewing and chewing and chewing and before i knew it i was home and they were gone.

gray matter

My subconscious hates me and is torturing me with dreams. And let me tell you, the ol' subconscious must have been working on the dream from last night for a while cause it was a real doozy. Gone are the happy dreams of impossible situations that I long for with all my little heart. The happy dreams that can't and wont come true were hard, but reality is harder. Instead of being forced to face my own latent hope for a past that can't come back, I'm forced to face my present reality. Sleeping and dreaming should be an escape from your real life where you ride unicorns and eat ice cream without getting fat, not a reminder of sad truths. This is a formal request for my subconscious to have a heart and leave me alone. Couldn't it pick up a new hobby? Instead of making up dreams it could write poetry or remember grocery lists or take a smoke break or something for a few hours.