November in Stratford
And now I have settled down into my new life in Stratford. No more will the wild nights engulf me. I work three jobs but its still not enough. Days off are laden with boredom and a mild sense of abandonment.
The colour is fading fast and November is upon us. It's time to stay home, to bundle up, to sleep, and to eat. It's time to stoke the creative inspiration that sparks inside of me. I run my fingers over the fibrous form of the paper yet nothing takes shape.
I dream of friends, of fighting, of the evolution of species, of humanities rapid demise. I drink coffee and obsess over the flaccidity of my personal accomplishments.
As I gradually let slip the skills of my youth I will revel in what remains. I will make it my life's work and it, not I, will become something. I will be left behind the bloated, mouth-breathing, lumbering body of capitalist economies. I will be alone on a path ripped through and singed by dragons. I will be alone and I will up at the stars to remind myself of what is right.
The colour is fading fast and November is upon us. It's time to stay home, to bundle up, to sleep, and to eat. It's time to stoke the creative inspiration that sparks inside of me. I run my fingers over the fibrous form of the paper yet nothing takes shape.
I dream of friends, of fighting, of the evolution of species, of humanities rapid demise. I drink coffee and obsess over the flaccidity of my personal accomplishments.
As I gradually let slip the skills of my youth I will revel in what remains. I will make it my life's work and it, not I, will become something. I will be left behind the bloated, mouth-breathing, lumbering body of capitalist economies. I will be alone on a path ripped through and singed by dragons. I will be alone and I will up at the stars to remind myself of what is right.