Wondering of a different time, a time when words soothed my being and took my imagination on a joyride. Of all the times I wished to be more handsome with oceans on my irises and a head-full of blonde dye.
Wondering what ever happened to those times, those ever unhurried days in my room always thinking. Those cold Sunday mornings dew on the porch still in my pajamas by midday always tinkering.
Wonder when did those times go, why changed comfort for contacts and stimuli. Is this what growing up means in the end more than the words we should live by?
Wonder what is even living anymore? Do we work to live or live to work? Who knows anymore?
Working for one day to live off on our own.
