November 16, 2003
The age of my days are languid and lost in memory twisted and buried in depths of today. The closer I get to yesterday the earlier today becomes and the further away tomorrow. Wandering states of past adventures leave me straggled and lost in the today that is. The future speeds by and loses its freshness as I strangle the hour that I am engrossed in right now. Adventure and excitement remembered fondly and tightly gripped in a fist of wanting as I wonder where it has all gone in the lust for tomorrow, next month, next year. This second.