do i feel any different? not really, it’s all the same.

from small town, to small city, to bigger city, really, everything feels the same internally. there are more cars and more people, but, it is the same. greener. more coffee… when you close your eyes and think of the hotel bed and all the older people in the bar drinking since it’s vacation or five’o‘clock somewhere.

“drift again 2000 man.

did you hear them yell: land damn it land.

i dearly hope you can.”

for me. i keep waiting for a deeper breath, a slower realization, something functional to elevate the fact that the highlight is laying on a pre-made bed and reading until my bed time has past.

“i guess they still don’t understand.”

we all keep waiting for something to strike a chord or feel more authentic then the last.

maybe it’s just me.

maybe i’ve drank too much.

dig in deeper, my friend, i’ll keep telling you it’s a defensive reaction of my central core. i’m not really a dick, it’s just the way i cope. cope? cope or cop out. one of those. depends on the reflection in the mirror.

depends on who is really saying something. when was the last time? or the time before. like the last.

what if told you a friend of ours might be dying? i guess it wouldn’t matter. because, really to call someone a friend, we might have to know them.

————

pardon my rambling, i may of had something to say at one point.

bid you good evening.

he doesn’t have cancer, he’s just being introspective. the doctor will say he’s alright. by proxy, we’ll all be okay.

he won’t see a doctor.

he won’t tell anyone anyways. secrets kept.

——————

“are you giving in?”

i am sure am.

“test tones and failed drones.”

“are you giving?”

huddle in, i’ve only got one match.