ciggerettes and sidewalks.
these are my evenings.
old shoes, cracked on the sides,
old slacks worn entirely too high.
i look into closed store windows.
i seek out stimulation.
people misunderstand the point.
people misunderstand that
there is no point.
all there is
is what is.
i sought out answers
all i got was confusion
now, i seek out confusion
in hopes of finding
truth.
and i walk.
every night.
down the same streets.
down the same dreams.
down the same thoughts.
and every night
the only thing i find is
just the same ciggerettes and sidewalks.
i smoke so i can do something
with my hands.
i wak so i can do something
with my soul.
i write so i can justify
my odd behaviour.
and i tell you all of this
to prove that i exist.
9:05 a.m. - 2004-09-12
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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