Acts of futility will not fill voids. Fleeting, at best, is their comfort and your empty memory will soon be filled with another instance to regret. There is no romance in regret. Or sadness ( Read more... )

Soon.

When it's this cold, all thoughts are slowed to the point of being irrational.

Why is it that dogs never seem to have good dreams?

Discuss.

What a bullshit day. And it keeps getting better and better and better.

qui tacet consentire

Gambit

I've started editorializing again. These thoughts are iridescent. Corpus callosum severed, now when my hand holds a pen I'm ignorant to the message it's writing. Where is this going?

The wheels on the bus.

The flower generation, seemingly reborn, but without flowers and without any real ambition. Just the drugs, the sex, and the vague sense that somehow, we'll all eventually get to where we're going.

"It may be a bad thing that so many people try to make good stories out of their lives. A story, after all, is as artificial as a mechanical bucking bronco in a drinking establishment ( Read more... )

synaptic relapse choirs sing diminished seconds and augmented fifths that sew rifts between past and present pleasant warmth of whiskey pull in my stomach lining showing signs of decline and the burden of pride record low tide in eyes the wax and wane of lids that now diminish seconds and augment fifths of light right and wrong sing song limerick ( Read more... )