drunk again
and i am typing very slowly.

they say it makes you lose
your inhibitions.

i feel lust and rage
and i wonder who i was in a past life.
i think i was quite purposely mean.

why am i typing this when i want it to be erased?
just proof that i was once alive, i guess.

i keep thinking that this time in my life
must be for something,
must mean something.

maybe it will just be time forgotten.

am i supposed to be learning something?

is this time/space molding me?

i am just going to keep going with this until i get somewhere.

feel free to stop reading. this is some bullshit drunk exercise into my own sick pathology.

i keep pushing on, looking for some bigger meaning, convinced that there is no bigger meaning.

i am so not unique. how many millions of people before me and after me will wonder the same things?

if death would give me the answers, then i would be the first in line for suicide. but i think that just leads to pure nothingness.

and the shit of it all
is that nobody else knows.
there is no reference guide for this.

the seasons offer no answers.

time seems the only way
and yet it seems unendurable.

the ways that seem to make me feel better,
seem to lead me further from any truth.

i can see that lust and/or rage are not good answers.

but either are green tea and meditation.

so where is it?

what is it?

is it?

probably not.

so why keep looking?