cardboard tears

What do you do
when the road you walk
is the way you know
and of which you talk
incessantly as
such a wearisome path,
devoid of peace
in the aftermath
of fantasy and
of ideation,
while iron cuffs
of your own creation -
that have a key
somewhere around,
if only it
was to be found -
embrace your wrists
with cold hard grip
and lead you on
where you will slip
and fall...

So yeah, I'm feeling a bit down now, and I'm tired which is why I'm writing about it in a place where the world can find out. I'm unhappy without good reason. If only life was simpler, free of confusion, angst and everything else that is stopping me from being where I should be right now. Some say that pain gives life its richness. Well, too much richness and you feel sick. And when you feel sick, your mind just doesn't work properly.

The old ways just keep coming back...

The old ways must die.