this is out on the flat, west texas. i look up and feel weightless, endless, endless everything. all the continuous life, death, and dragging on. i need to do something so i put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard and i write on. i can't describe the simplicity out here, it's not good it's not bad, it's just existing. for no reason but god people struggle on, my own family blinding themselves. drama i thought i was done with after i got kicked out of job corps filled our lives the past two months. I came looking for family, and now on leaving i feel even further away from that sense or want or need of that silly idea. or have i realized i should make my own family? i don't know anymore. i just see endless, endless flat: a plateau of mediocrity. i've loved the people i've met, my family, the idea speaks comfort but i was only able to find a force more self-destructive than my own self. so what do i do now? now that i've left that flatness? like i've left. i'm still here in texas, dallas, but somehow we're not staying. one more day i tell myself in this child's bed... i guess i'll find out sooner or later.
i don't feel what i know
what do i do now?
lost in this melting snow
i was apparently given something.
never had never lost it
can't sink a missing ship.
as roads lay before me:
can't we take both?
mind aches with indecision.
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