Nothing ever starts the way you think it should. Expectations are never quite what we believe they should be. We are never enough for the moment yet, somehow we always seem to make it. Dreaming our way to some sort of reality. Thats why I believe we suffer. Its because the water always runs over the pot on the stove. 

Thats probably not right but it makes sense somehow. A festering tinged with the hissing of pain. Who knows the real reason, does it even matter in this dump of an existence we call life? 

No one cherishes it. Especially the filth here on 6th avenue. Wasting away in putrid leisure. The smell alone would kill me if I had to stay here. Yet, I do find some sort of serenity in its simplicity. 

Life is too complicated…

The longer you spend in it the more it drains you. Reducing your dreams to rapid twitches in the night that wake you up and remind you your getting old and have to piss. 

I didn’t always see dreams this way. I remember little pieces of a time where I believed in the grandeur of something better. The longing for the distant horizon that could only be glimpsed through the incoherent dilated pupils of the day dreamer. Staring into the vistas like a window to another world.

Windows, whats that about anyways. We associate windows with portals to other worlds. We long and pine away when inside of them. Looking out into the great vast space of wonder. Yet, we are born into that world with it all at our fingertips. Potential to do or be anything, yet we build boxes with windows just so we can sit inside them and stare out into what we perceive we do not have.

What a joke…

Thats how I feel. A punchline in a comedians repertoire. I used to be a good person. Full of lightness and laughter. Shallow and oblivious. I used to believe in something greater. Longing for it, pining away seeking to mold my pathetic mush of a thing into being something like it. 

I think it used to be easier. When I could feel my heart beat and the heat in my veins. Before the cold set in. The frigid air that froze my lungs form the inside out with each breath I took.

Suffocating at first, but refreshing once you get used to it. I hardly notice now. Of course, there are days I smell something that reminds me I am still alive. I don’t think much about it of course, but it happens. Its comforting to know I can still be disappointed. 

Somewhere inside of me knew it was a risk. A fear that all of us are intimidated by. Some it rules their minds, but for me it was a blurred yield sign on the expressway. I never even saw it coming or going. I think thats the way it was designed to be. If not then I truly deserve to live in this cesspool. So I guess thats another notch for time to fill. After all, does it really matter where you piss in the middle of the night? 

All I want to do is get back to sleep…