Things are so fragile. We harden ourselves against it, this self awareness of our own fragility. Or we lost it so early on that we don't know it exists, this fragility. Like a little butterfly wing.
Time can pressure me without me being able to help it. I have to piss. But I want to finish this because I cannot leave my stuff here, it'll get stolen. Maybe not, but there is a high probability that it will. And I can't risk that or you wouldn't be able to read this.
Nature is dying, it is changing, we are dying, because we are nature.
I keep dreaming and beat myself up for a dream is nothing but a dream, isn't that so. And a dream doesn't bring in the money.
Having faith is a tough thing.
The smoke keeps getting in my nose as I sit here, staring out into the early spring sunset. I can't see the sun, just it's light shining off the Antiques sign hanging across the road. It is slightly breezy outside, I know because the sign is moving slightly, sending the light forward and backward. I'm feeling a little ache, in my bum, the seat is hard and I have been sitting here for a while now. Looking at people coming and going, looking back at me, wondering what I am doing, sitting by myself in the corner. Well let them. They all have just come from the office, in their suits, laughing as if there are no troubles in the world. If they only knew. How can they sit there, or stand there, or sway there in some cases, and not care?
The lights are on inside, even though the light outside is still strong. They're not really having any effect, but they will, the darker and darker it gets, they'll make sure the day doesn't leave this place. A nice place, well lit. Slowly day shifting from outside to inside, making sure there are no dark corners, but we all have to emerge into darkness sooner or later. With no practice we won't know what to expect. We'll be scared. Scared of the unknown, the unfamiliar. But we always have torches, somehow we manage to invent things to keep us away from the darkness. Street lamps, torches, candles, fires, car lights, bike lights, and even night vision goggles. An obsession with seeing. The eyes. Sight. Hah, what fools we are. Even with all this light, we still can't see what is at the end of our noses. A nice fat pimple probably, just about ready to burst out with built up pus. A little blood and it will begin to heal again, and maybe not even leave a scar. Oh, a vivid imagination. ha ha. I like it, it keeps me entertained here in my hours looking, observing the world turn and twist under the tight grip of us.
Oh I've got to piss so badly now. Damn, I was just getting into the swing of things. But what can you do, that's good old mama nature. Can't defeat that, can we?
