The mind has shifted into overdrive and the tires are stuck in a deep, fecal mud. The more I do, the less I move. I cling to the idea of pulling some kind of disappearing act like a hack illusionist working on an expired budget.
Time strips away the comforts and the goodness leaving nothing but a withered carcass for intermittent observation, like fireflies in a strobe light. Blink at the wrong moment and it all goes away in an instant.
No comments:
Post a Comment