The dead zone, or, heavy handed

Ocean's have them, so does this on-rails gig. Ids low & high tiptoe through conscience, the real magnet tar pit trap. Benadryl Nyquil quill, post-sick (an epilogue, not this), sick of this a bit or more. Wotan tomorrow, or not.

What will be is heat, the complaining of yours truly, the eye rolling of ghosts & those that are flesh but it's hard to tell at times, swampy skin & salted corneas, senses adrift like a boat on the ocean, a dead zone. What, too heavy handed?

Find some tulips & get tiptoeing.
♪ I'm a librarian (not really) & that's okay, I sleep all night & I sleep all day ♫
Books checked out to grad students are due on August 20th.
CTHULHU IS WATCHING

If we all human sacrifice real hard, maybe he'll devour NATO.
No, this is not a political post.
An imaginary real beast from beyond the stars eating empire is a chortle.
Please fucking keep your 2012 stuff under ice.
Merci.