All the time...
grumpy too. Late afternoon
slump. Time sits still
for once. Just to be a
bastard. I think thoughts
but I don't believe most of them anymore. I just
want a drink and then
I want to go home and play chess or
read a book.
Acne like an adolescent. Who knows
Maybe because I've been acting like an adolescent. I sit
staring at the poster you gave me, and I wonder
why you bothered
give it to me, then leave. In fact,
I'd like to get a drink with you, but...
fleeting ever faster. One year now one-thirty-fourth of my
ten years ago a year was only one-twenty-fourth of my
and ten years before that, a year was only one-fourteenth of my
Where does it go? Times change and circumstances
and the only constant
seems to be
I want to jerk off
all the goddamned