|If I'm alive this time next year, will I have arrived in time?
||[Sep. 13th, 2007|06:44 pm]
It's not me. The world is so big and so vague and so full. It's naked women and starving children. It's blood flows erratic. It's patriarchy and metallic.
And all I am is here, wasting away time. Nothing good to say, and a paycheck to buy myself a sandwich and cup of coffee. I'm wanting justice, and I have e-commerce. I have a job, but I want a calling. It always just came, but now I have to search. I used to have poetry, but now all I can muster up are a few bombastic sentences that won't do anyone good.
Wasting time, wasting time, wasting time... It's become my subconscious' favorite reverberation.