Jun 8, 2025
Midnight Musings from the Marrowmind
It’s the witching hour, the ghosts are gossiping, and Frank is snoring molten wax again. (It sounds like a lava lamp gargling.)
Meanwhile, I’m lying in my sarcophagus with what little remains of my spine curled like a question mark, wondering…
If I lost my skull, would I still be me? Or would I simply become a very dramatic xylophone?
These are the questions you ask when sleep is a long-forgotten friend and your bones creak louder than your thoughts.
Anyway, if you’re also up, drink water. Or blood. Or starlight. Whatever fuels you.
From one restless skeleton to another, good night, and may your ribs not ache too loudly.