Beau/day

I'm trying to start listening to myself.

Tell me sub-conscious, what are your aspirations?

What apparitions of ambition lie just yonder.

'Neath the tepid water. Still as they are. Others deeper still.

Why do I care.

Did she want me to know that she is going to stay with someone who hit her.

To think after 5 years, she was fucking some guy,

I come home, she thinks I had a knife because my hand was behind my back.

And you're staying with someone you barely know who hit you.

These women want streetcars.

I choose contentedness.

Crying these past days over things that have nothing to do with me.

In my own world its misery.

I find solace in my puppy. Baby Beau.

She is loving and is an outlet for my affection.

I waste time like its nothing.

If time is money then I live double poorly.

My days are not fulfilled.

Love is/was the only thing.

I feel as if I'm melting into nothing.