May 18, 2003
Poetic Vengeance
No, I thought as I came upon the light, my braking foot made foolish by the changing colors, red to green. No, there isn't a chance that reason will flood my small, unfortunate mind and lead me to employ my turn signal. Left for home and a cold, untidy single mattress; straightaway for 275 and Kentucky 18, Apple Cider Drive and a crowded house where my belongings are only temporary, despite my near to constant presence.
No, I'll always follow him, and the promise of him, and there won't be any sense for me in this life.
There is a trifle bit too much mustard on this sandwich, but I have devoured it anyway, having otherwise eaten today only two bagels and a bag of M&M's. My glass sweats but I do not, my skin prickling from the chill entering into the command center from the open window. I don't know what I want out of tonight, it is hard for me to think and focus lately. I've become dumb with lack of purpose. I amuse myself with sex and videogames, driving back and forth from work, buying new underwear and blank journals. Sometimes I write in them, sometimes I admire the potential in their empty pages.
Sad thing is, I'm happy. Perhaps I am not the intellectual I thought I was.
astera at 10:55 p.m.