(no subject)
I keep saying I'm going to leave to sleep on my pad on the floor with my cats, and here I am, because I feel as if I'm leaving some things un-said. Well, here's my pitch. Laughter is not going to last, and neither is my nicotine fix, but this coming walk home is going to last. Because time is ticking away, and when people walk away, someday they will never some back , and there will be a day when I'm never going to see any of you again.And I wonder how many of us have realized that the air smells different than it smelt when we were first born in the 80's where everything was punk rock and flamboyant hair, and our mothers had perms. And yet, day by day the reality is the catch of the day, what I'm going to eat, what I'm going to consume and who's going to consume me. What I really want is to piece together puzzles that are simpler to understand then I will allow them to be. Why do I let everything sneak up on me? It's all in my vision.