Tbt to winter ice and snow. My thoughts are clouded with
cold winter weather on May days. Even in New England this is just wrong, all
the ponds were steaming and the frost lay on the buds this morning. The skys,
now bright with shadow casting sunshine still cannot melt thru this funk I
have. It is raining inside with big drops falling from the ceiling and out of
the light fixtures. The halls were overflowing with the late morning hoards.
Just another day in paradise. Dripping wet zombies, mulling together in
communal dishevel. Sunshine always agitates the hoard. They bunch up in
congested followings, a constipation of the buildings innards. Disingenuously as
it was, of any crowd dynamics. Standing amidst the rotting dishevel, I once
again question my existence, the world and the choices I have made. It seems to
always come back to this…forever. Paint this picture black on black. Shit, why
am I still doing this?
