pre-winter blues

nothing will come of anything. any shred of creativity i can materialize will be disregarded, misunderstood, or resented by someone. i'm tired of working so hard and having nothing to show. my progress gets eaten by the slice. i miss being poor. i don't have the energy for anything anymore. i weep because i'm tired and weary. i weep because my back hurts all the time. i weep because the ground doesn't push back hard enough when i tread on it. maybe when i'm dead...someone will find my blog and my flickr account in some dusty rubbermaid container in a storage facility and scan them into the mainframe or matrix or whatever. maybe when i'm dead i'll roll over in my grave for the last time and finally get some rest. but probably not.