The longer I go without achieving a goal, the more apathetic my soul becomes,
and the deeper I fall into the abyss of my childhood's rearing home.
The words of my favorite dead grandfather ring through my ears only when I
turn my thoughts to him, (the rest of the day is filled with quiet rooms and empty thoughts).
Maybe someone will injure them self at the ole watering hole so I might be able to use my
skills of healing. Can you hold my head granddad? my neck is tired.
There is very little for me here, yet I continue to stay and involuntarily wane my bank account;
I don't even have my own home or automobile to help with that. It still occurs,
so does the trip to the plateau of old country friends and giants; that will cause financial depreciation.
I've used up my whore usages, over drafted actually, by two. Frankly, one is too many times and should be punished by shunning. What happens after two? Death or grave secrete? I've
learnt to be more open book since returned, but maybe others don't want or need to know.
The girl who I adore, and left abruptly with a possible promise of a future, drifts in and out of my mind, as waves to the shore. The biggest waves are the most damaging. I broke something of hers
and I don't know how to mend it. I've never been a skilled craftsman, or couth, or timely with the female side of this world (I was told there is no gender in heaven).
Maybe she resent me, or others like me,
Maybe she's going through her own depression,
Or maybe I'm alone.
I may be poor in many aspects, but at least I look good in a new suit (shallow me).
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