the feeling of losing once or twice
I should have listened to more Bob Marley in Naramata, he could have helped out greatly (see track one, legend) in my whole ordeal. Tsk tsk. Why is it that we indulge in emotional behavior, when emotional investments mean oh so very little. We gave each other one night, and in that night both stars and smiles destroyed all hope of getting out clean. Next page, Wednesday night, video games and one turntable. Jogging, frustrations, internal, motivation, outer, intimidation. Relaxation is no longing ten a dime, and tonight is the final move. I've got a head full of memories that I don't care to discuss. Enough is enough and every last cliche, still my french never was a high point. Ranting, is it? Longing I suppose, longing for departure. Believe me brother, it's true. Forgot our way somehow, where the fuck are we now? You stand on your side, line drawn in the sand. I stand here year after year, and sure, they all come and go. But in a sense I'm still sitting there in the second row, writing shit far worse than this. Call it non-fiction, but the hero dies in the end.