Grown Lazy

Like entropy and rot...widespread in the wet earth, unnatural dirty birth. Careless. Consider this empty easel with the old stains and the book I owe the library. I don't care. It's too easy to throw it all over for games and the obvious industry of basic household bullshit. Hide. Consider this complacency. Comfort as a killer. When I gave up for the anonymity of the wastelands with the needle, with California, that real desert. I hid behind mountains in the void of a basin. Even now I've completely lost the thread. My story is just a complaint, or worse. An excuse.

Harrison St. Maybe for a collage.

Well, I wouldn't say I *meant* to...

And I wasn't even that careful.

Because I don't feel like working

Goddamn, it’s too warm for October but I love your sweaters rough armor that defied the moths for one more year of hole-y war. We will drink coffee and search the paper for something to do avoid work, waste time, not care go all day with dirty hair. Down to the river to hear the rapids while the trees bare their arms admire the bones as we walk along until it gets dark, and we’ve both grown cold.