Procrastinating

Got home around 2am last night. Didn't wake up until noon today. Memo due tomorrow morning. Listening to Muse's "Origin of Symmetry." Want to find inner calm by shooting something over and over, bullets or arrows, but own no gun nor bow. Wish cigarettes burned beyond themselves. Wonder if trees miss their fallen leaves as much as I miss my fallen hair. Leaves and hair with no home, so lonely and dead. Treat them like trash, the mess they make. If only hair decomposed into carpet like leaves into ground.