i don’t really go out, and when i do i hang out with my own company; to the extent where lately i’ve been going to shows by myself and on occasions talking to myself (in japanese, so i suppose it lessens the insanity). my behaviour is becoming increasingly reclusive. never before has my own company been so enticing; people in general make me tired.
the worry, the wonder, the shortness of days,
the replacement for purpose,
the things swept away by
the worry, the wonder, my slightness of frame,
the replacements for feeling,
the casual lay. and
the worst of the wildlife wears clothes and can pray and
the worry, the wonder, for three meals a day.
only death unimpeded, not slowing it’s pace,
brings that petty, old worry and wonder away.
