Yeah, Sorry

Just before I fell asleep last night I was thinking about how I feel as though someone has come along and squeezed all the liquid from me that would normally form writing. It’s like someone pressed it all into a glass then took that glass and smashed it on the edge of a table so that all the writing milk ran onto the floor and a cat came along to lick it up but stepped in a shard and cut its paw and left bloody tracks on its way out the door…

Then I fell asleep thinking about how that metaphor was disgusting.