Holy mother of you know what?
I’m not interested in a damn thing anymore
Well not entirely but lackluster dominates
I have a hernia on my psyche
a bottlenecking in creativity
shorelines are so so
and humanity is so very predictable
and I can’t say that the bad things that get done everyday
surprise me anymore
it’s all so very blah de blah
writing is stuck in a clogged vein
perhaps I want too much wonder
crave too much for something unattainable
when the mundane is the only meal that can be made
lately it seems anyway and
spring will spring but will my spirit
or will this moped up crap continue through
the decades? it feels that way anyway.
Sorry, my head is up my arse.