the days have collided into one long, interminable scream: so much so that i’ve forgotten what i’m screaming for or about or to or why or wherefore. and i don’t even scream aloud.

so same, the days
in essence
so governed by extremity
and the levity of change
          that dream
     undisclosed
we grieve that none may know
the inner joy
engendered by the storms

that was jotted down during some work meeting in which i had only a bit part, if any. i don’t know exactly when. and the entire sentiment of not knowing that is exactly how things have been.

shit. that rhymed. you can shoot me now.

i am actually doing well. things change rapidly, which always seems to be the case with me. i don’t try to make things difficult, but that could well be simply another way of saying that i don’t have to try.

happiness approaches, which is not to say i’m entirely displeased with the here-and-now.

ugh. i’m gonna stop now. too many caveats, and i barely just started.

(on a completely unrelated subject: i don’t know what the hell “melon berry” skittles are supposed to taste like, but they taste like the smell of an old man’s farts contained with decades-old wet flannel. don’t ask.)

The following is at least tangentially relevant to my mental state of late. Which really isn’t saying much for me.

Sigh. I did it again.

(from “Porcupine”, Echo and the Bunnymen, on “Porcupine”, 1983)

There is no comparison
Between things about to have been.
Missing the point of our mission
Will we become misshapen?

A change of heart
Will force the nail,
Nailed to the door
To all avail.

There are no divisions
Between things about to collide.
Hitting the floor with our vision,
A focus at some point arrives.