What?
You don’t talk about your feelings?
When you do it, I don’t think it’s about what you say.
I think the act is more about when and why..
Or to whom you speak .
I don’t fret with any of that.
Follow your instincts,your heart, and don’t forget to call yourself an asshole.
I’d go outside and dig a hole with my hands, slither into and feel the coolness of the dirt.
Feel the rumble and vibration of everything man-made..
You don’t even need light down there.
It’s just you and your stupid stupid instincts.
Your knee jerk desire.
Your half-thoughts mumbled out and spewing down the side of your mouth.
Moth-balls and razor-wire.
All the things in the universe but none of it rhymes,none of it makes a spark.
No flint.
No steel.
The only choice you have is to acclimate. To become comfortable with the raging discomfort.. and look for signs of life, earlier travelers and the words they wrote on the wall.
Thank God for that…
When I was a child and I would become lost in the woods, I always felt safer when I found some garbage. Some litter and some refuse ..
I am not alone, because I can see that people have been here before..
Shitty people,but still people…
dusk 