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.