where is my inflammatory writ
i was told i was a fool. "the best way of getting back on your feet is going back to the place you learned how to walk", he says. just because it's clever doesn't make it true because that old ground kept rolling out beneath me. no footing. the tempory wonder has gotten stale and i'm feeling a strong lust to ramble elsewhere. i don't mind stewing with you, baby. new jersey, the old dirty jerz has long since gone from stale to downright rotten. i'll be damned if i ever return. to return would be a backstep right into a bind. i'll find musings elsewhere.