Pissin' away another day in paradise. What ever happened to growing up? It is surly expected of me, and yet I feel like I'm going backwards. Summer sickness. Coming chill creeping over me, will I notice the falling? Will the cold snap snap me out of this cruse? I hope so. We have some time. All I can talk about is the cold and its still scorched earth outside; roasted emerald days.
Now the pain starts and still it doesn't stop. The oil burns lower, drip drop. Drip drop.
And yet, and yet... Complacency is just a word. There is something here, a quietness in the mind, a stillness in the heart. Paradise, sans beaches and paper drink accoutrements. Waiting, again and always and forever. A sleepy time, a time for quiet and selfishness. Soon the sun will lift from the horizon, and it will be a time of activity. But a wise man can find himself in either. I just wonder if I am wise.