wall
09/27/2003 06:37 p.m.
i just don't see a point, i just don't fucking see any point. i - this life i'm living - the things i live against - this - i - all of it. it. i don't see a point. i don't see a point. i want to sit in my room and play guitar but then i don't want to do that at all i just want to huddle in a loving embrace of something metaphorical i don't know the reasons anymore that i used to give myself to live this way - and yet i come up against this wall irreversibly so that keeps me in it, and whether its a wall i put up myself whether its societal or psychological it's there and consequently i don't see a point at all. not anymore. except maybe one - to do nothing, to write poetry for myself, to make words bleed, to do nothing but. maybe.
I am listening to nothing