There is no happiness in a life lived for the self there is contentment and there is survival in it but the rest is pointless decoration if you have enough to hold you have enough to share and all of this striving this salary this house the objects that fill gaps in your life and the reputation strung to your name all of it stacked together is only trying to to fill the edges of an emptiness fill the edges that one moment of interconnection would give us
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We Are Drowning, How Should We Kill Our Time?
PoetryThis collection of stream of consciousness prose was written during a very special time in my life. I left the city following a massive burnout, and lived in the country for months. I began a garden, cut most of my ties to the outside world, and wro...
