despondent& seems we are far from free of our plague(s)—how should I move forward? ….like iron laden heavy are the wings, is it worth it all? or am I just crazy ….
….why do they always begin with compliments before they rip you down and find fault with everything and assume they own and possess every corner of your time and mind and free will. fuck
Where does the diary end and the story begin, where do we place the markers and the messages
And as I wait in indecision….
over what it all means…. I ask the universe to show me a path before I disappear completely; mute, unheard, obliterated and meaningless
****
the muffled voices drift up from the courtyard as I watch the waves and lean back against the pirate’s headboard feeling sleepy…. he comes to me in dream….
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