Incense stick was on the night stand, moved over to the keyboard on my desk so I could let it waft in a way the fan would push it over to where I am. It'd been to the side of a little music box that plays a vaguely Potter-ish melody and I don't really think my mom's a fan. I don't know how my mom gets anything out of reading when she is such a bitter, often loveless person. Before I'd moved the incense stick laid on my night table it, the music box, and a near-empty bottle of Monster Ultra. All the lights here are out and I drink energy drinks because I like sugar, I've been pretty devoid of energy and I'm not particularly looking for it; Maybe my mind will knock off self-destructive hyperactivity when I don't even give it the time to think. I hope I'm just digging through mundane words for a bit and soon, I'll get to the point where the grass is trimmed and dew trickles to dirt, wet sheets for seeds to lead my words to hoards of flowering bushes where I pick from shades of rose attuned to where my head was as I arose. (4/28/2020)