You can cut it with a knife
the desolation that pours in on me as I spend hours staring into pale light of my moniter. If the story moves swiftly I have had a decent day, if it goes slowly I take to the bottle with the friends in my head. I think of sex as if it were a myth-the forest of the women a place I know nothing of anymore. I must constantly remind myselve of the reasons behind my self induced social hiatus, I saw the top of the moutain & it was good. A story that shall not go untold.