i'm frightened that my life is becoming more futile than i would have ever imagined. we're all trapped in this life, going nowhere, and yet the entire world keeps telling us that we are going somewhere. we seek the prestige and comfort of big names when we can achieve happiness with the familiar. how long will it be until kids could sleep at night without worrying about the most insignificant of things?
some very melancholy nostalgia:
you rise in me like a sun. 
as night seeped into the crevices of the sidewalk, i stepped outside with my dog and traveled across meadows and concrete and long, black roads that blended into the infinite cavity of night. there was nothing to think about, nothing to know. music still wedged in time poured into my ears for the first time in a long time. i pulled on ginger and she resisted me and i pulled harder, and she finally gave. and i stumbled near a pole of light, stands on a yard in the corner of hampshire rd. and baker hill, that scaled across my eyes like a great big white sun floating in midair, and a huge white hole ripped open in my cornea and the blackness fell in and was trapped inside and all that was left was the writhing white bulb swelling all around me and then the night clasped in and.
