No mas

I do this to myself.

I go to bed late, sunday. It sets my whole week back. So that I am stuck in this cycle of making life harder than it needs to be. For no good reason. Then I add poeticism around contrived despair.

No mas! Good night.

Still waters

There are times when I feel towed. Dragging downstream - hopelessly in step with the current. Current music, current fashion, current worries, current hopes and dreams, all pulling me towards a conclusion for which only an adolescent craves - that I am regular. What a dreadful age to feel regular, to be regular. It achieves nothing, like a college meal plan. What I wouldn't give to take all my credit and dine at the table of irregularity.

Yet the strong current pulls me away from the tow of once stronger turbines. Farther I am from the churn of depression and disappointment than ever before - I hardly feel their waves. This river is pulling me towards still waters, the most fearful kind. I know how to swim better than I know how to tread, and I am either too heavy or too dense to know how to float. Still waters are better enjoyed from the shore. Doubtless, I need to swim towards land, but which pier will lend me the best view of myself?

There are times where I feel lost without a path and times where I feel lost with one. There are a few things I would change and a lot of things I would keep the same about current affairs. I am one of them.