I'm exhausted, like really exhausted inwardly and outwardly, but i just made a pot of coffee

So i'll just have to drink that, because there's such a sweet taste in my mouth from all the pop, black unsugared coffee is like a dog's flapping ears out the rolled down window of the old 70s vehicle going down a dirtroad, gravel dust flying in his eyes, and he's howling away, and his tail is whacking the driver's face repeatedly, so the driver pulls off to the side of the road and whips out his ereader and reads a load of Plato, and with a computer balanced on his legs is trying to compose his rich interior life on a site where the last thing people need is more pessimism, but it's ok because he doesn't have anything to do later in the 40 minute old day, so he can take his last sleeping pill in the morning.