When things matter to me, I am not at all sane…
How old am I now? Old enough to function, but not old enough to thrive. Will I ever reach some semblance of a transcendence? Do I want one? Didn’t I once scream at the top of my lungs,
“Mania, mania… Wherefore art thou, mania!?”
I still can’t help but travel underground; I still prefer to crawl. Old friends… are you still here, underground, with me? Or is the darkness mine like I want it to be? Like it shouldn’t be…
Ocd, ocd, ocd…
me.
(Oh well… everything is beautiful any old way… 😉