Hoodoo

I got the title from a Muse song.

This is getting out of hand.
It's almost time to let go, but you can't detatch the phone from your ear.
What a hideously lovely piece of jewelry.
Don't you have places to be?
Can't you see the sands of time falling from the tree of life?
You'll never find the fountain of youth if you don't pick up your feet.
You're not get anywhere are you, darling.
I told you once what you have to do.
I could fill a book with all the advice that was left out and forgotten, but we're getting sick now.
This is getting out of hand.
Can you taste you last breath?
Is it as metallic as you'd hoped it would be?
Don't act like you don't like it. You heard what I told you, but it didn't sink in. You're fused to the metal--metal you've consumed and slept on.
Is it comforting to know?
Does it make you feel special?
You're so important.
You're so full, but you're emptier than the abyss you've fallen into.
How terribly beautiful.
Are you melting yet?
Can you feel the heat?
Pick up your feet.
Go on, answer your phone...You know you want to.