Look at this morose m**f** here. Looks like somebody done s** in his cereal

I know I should change. But I stay here instead, still waiting. The truth is I have become comfortable in this stasis, this sticky web that has coagulated around me, the messy room growing cumulatively messier. I sit here in the light of the silent TV and think, “I should change.” I want to be changed. But I am not so sure right now if I want to change.

I don’t know what happened to those days, the power that drove us, when we called it destiny, not even dreams, when we waited for something different. Girls with silver wings on their backs, so light and precious that they could only be seen when the moonlight caught them just right, men who all had sly private smiles and secrets that no one but they would ever understand, and when they spoke, if they spoke long enough, they would spill out words that would give the mysteries of life true names.

I don’t know where those days are. Lost in the past where things are forgotten and wasted, or still ahead of us, waiting for me to stop waiting?