I am made of leaves in a knitted basket
A day involving a knee, a journey, and refusal to wear my spleen -

I have mutilated all sorts of events in my memory. A sensible person with my sort of life would have surely done away with themselves by now. Fortunately, I have instead done away with any sense of reality, and now live free to believe that things really aren't so hopelessly upsetting. Sure, the landscape of my life resembles a sickly canyon sprinkled with beveling cadavers of the bosomy bourgeois. I believe that since our realities are so absurd to begin with, that we might as well spend our afternoons wandering alone in parks downtown entirely convinced that we have all sorts of sultry super powers.

I'm not quite sure if I'm revolutionary or just simply pathetic. Nevertheless, if you have read the previous paragraph, you'll see it really doesn't matter. I have quite nearly discovered what it takes to be happy in this world, and it requires being compltely delusional.

past | future