sadderday turns into sunday proper and monday mundane

and everything's blurred. feelings.
hours on a daylight savings clock.
my head from too much questionable dark ale.

i need clarity. that which is unmarred by boozy swigs and messy digs.
i need the kind of clear headed loveliness that this lady's a showing. She's positively glowing. And why? because she's welcoming people onto the flight of their dreams? Because she's got magazine-glossy hair? Because she's made of acryllic paint on fine paper, not skin and bones and faults and worries?

see the kind of brilliance melodramatique that comes from writing during a conference call?

the very dopest.