technically, not ALL dead, but . . .
I found a website for my Alumni Association. One guy died the year we graduated, apparently. I guess it's safe to say I left and basically never looked back. I am surprised how many show City's near me. But honestly, I don't care. Nor do they. No one does.
The Song Remains the Same.
talking to a group of 300+ while getting your ass chewed on, is, BION, not the worst part. The worst part - so far - is being tired this next morning, therefor cranky, therefor not wanting to hear incessant talking, nor wanting to ride behind someone doing 40 mph all the way to the office. So what, it's freakin' snowin'! It's March, get over it already!!!
Actually, maybe thw worst part is not being able to fine any good tunes on the way to work . . .
after you're dead will they forget you?
I tried to drown the Bitch. She just roared back. I tried to cut her off. She just waited. Honestly, my 'best' sucks. I either need a better 'best', or the 'best' needs a new me. 'Cause the Bitch is relentless. The Bitch is going to win
The edge between you and I is no chasm . . . but a divide none the less. Neither is comfortable with me, and that's to be expected. Of course, I have the power, at least on paper.
So, let's talk about you. How many ways have you tried to drown out the voice? When do you hear it especially? Have you ever tried to confront it? Is it always the same, or does it morph? Does it get louder with age, or have your ears numbed to its pain?
When you dream, do you see fields of clover? Or empty city streets? Can the sun burn through the veil, or does the blue sky only reflect a portion of the expanse of your eyes? When especially does the tragedy of such beauty weigh so mightily upon your soul?
No questions about trades, since they are wearisome, and futile. How far can you reach? When did you last inflict pain, and how did it taste?
Could you ever just walk away?
