Head Shaped Hull and I'm Rambling Again

I'm a drive from anything worth a shit, the shortest at five minutes and the longest at a while; but everything is too few things if I'm asked.
I need a kiss from concrete with a jackhammer in my pocket, plugged in and bit to bite.
Am I an eater? Am I eaten? Am I a chain?
I don't think I could care much less for these hundreds of people, at this point it's not so much a think so much as a know. Whittle that on down to fingers and toes, teeth if they're lucky.
Everyone is leaving for beaches or has went to beaches and all I have is a southern state that won't be as fun anymore; if lips and hips are an idea of fun that is.
Endorsed insanity is an oxymoron, just like pretty girls in over sized glasses.
Shoo fly, go away, come again some other day. When it's cloudy and you're single.

I drink chocolate milk from a Disney World cup and don't think about being a kid.

Which hurts more, pictures or words? Or the lack of words? Are pictures the same as words since they're worth a thousand, and is that vice versa? What's the exchange rate in pictures to words? One picture per thousand words we know, it's established; but how many pictures are worth a word? Still that thousand? I'm repeating I know, just think about it is all really. I know that one picture can make me cry, but i sincerely think it would take more words than that to cause the same.

I can pull teeth faster than this and I have to get up early next morning.

Go and wait in trepidation. I will become a well versed bird repeating history over and south, vomiting everything I've ever read with a keyboard and a billion dots. It's different and they sense it, this is forward progress. Just give me an aspirin and a cigarette. And a light. And a drink. And some wings, please.
She's pretty but mostly silent with September, now.
Killin' 'em all since '89 and she's laying on the bed, knees and shoulders. Head, shoulders, knees and curled toes, and curled toes.
I promise to make better mistakes at later dates.

"up all night, got demons to fight"

I'm sure that there is a reason for things, there's reasons for everything I do, I just don't know them all the time, and I'm not entirely sure the reasons know they're reasons; I doubt they're even self-aware. They just get pushed there and here and there as needed; really I guess I'm trying to say that reasons are a lot like everything that's dead in the sea.
It's more of a countdown than a consideration