~I'm just plain fucked up today. No ambition. No hope. No desire. Don't really want to do or be anything.
I was sitting down taking a shit and thinking I'd be perfectly happy living in one of my little dream worlds. Not writing about it, just playing in it. Like I used to when I was a kid and back when I got loaded. Just live like that until age and infirmity caught with me. Then I'd have a small party, hook myself up to a Kevorkian machine and say good night.
That's pretty much where I am today. Not depression such much as ennui. Not suicidal, just indifferent.
I thought of some lines from one of my old poems:
The world is insane
and full of fools.
It has earned
and Weapons of Mass Destruction.
That was back when I had enough passion to write poetry.