i think sometimes something bad happens somewhere. this sudden and desprate despair falls on one's shoulder. you can't name the source you can't find the remedy. it just squeezes your chest and pulls down the bottom of your stomach. then bitterly you curse yourself, your mistakes, your spoiled behavior. you see youself under not so bright lights. it flees hopefully as it settles but man, this iron block in my chest--right this very second.
i have hundreds of pages to organize, a paper to write which i haven't yet started, but those are such minor troubles that they can not explain this sudden restlessness. a symphony of hells as rimbaud would say. he's oddly appropriate for tonight.
shake off shake off. new day tomorrow, this week--and any week these days--never ends--they're longer, tougher, and i'm tired, i ran out of ideas to impress people by.
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