I'm in a place where boring is the least of my worries, or I would think, as I sit here, processing my existence, the deep sadness and plight of humanity, the pain of living and having to press on, unstirred and passed by so many, trudging forward as my body burns and my eyes are forced open, the anxiety and discomfort produced by this eternal flame, if I was a girl, I couldn’t stand it, by now, my impatience would have won, and I would have posted a picture of my breasts on the internet, to be content, requires the mind to dig deep, crawl inside itself, and maintain a consciousness on the same level as a worm, to ever yearn for more than that, would cause the waves to stir, it’s a slippery road, think about what’s best, how can you make it to retirement, everyone may get fed in hell, but that ever-burning flame, can you stand it, like a disease, a worm finds the most comfort when its buried, moon in the sky, thinking of my mommy, smoking cigarettes, imagining the gentle slope of mountains, poetry, just words, peace and death, it’s comforting…

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