I need a smoke, about as much as I need another night on the floor.
I'd cut a deal with a d'jinn if I knew how to summon one.
My life is a mess.
No, its very orderly,
in its absence of content,
and its not a train wreck
It's still going
and its moving much too slow.
It's like falling down the stairs in an Escher painting.
I'm stuck at the crossroads of an indecision
and a foolish commitment.
I'm just stuck, having always missed the perfect ride
by that much.
A day short, and a dollar late.
I dunno, maybe I like the bus-stop.
A lot of people come and go, pass by, say hi,
drift.
Maybe I like this grey flavorless mass called hiatus.
All trains boarding for nowhere fast...
