2005-02-09
The Youth Who Never Tired (is not she)

I would bill myself as a youth who never tires. The scant of years, such as myself, should be very hardy still in energy and vigor. I like to think I am, to eke the most out of each passing hour and day.

But as I lay sprawled across the floor in front of my heater, half naked and slurring the words to the songs wafting from my headphones, as I sing along; I realize that my fortitude is gone. It is all drained from me. Who am I fooling, and what am I doing?

So tired, the lines blurred and smeared between the rigid structures of school meditations, passionate longings for my lover, and dreamy abstracts of the strange underlevel of the subconscious; creating a mental havoc. A whirlwind of disarray. Nothing has a beginning or an end, a point or a purpose.

Nothing more than a swirl of vague impressions...

before & & after