My Great Depression

(origionally written July 29th)

a microcausm of our economic and emotional downfall.

an emptiness in my belly
an emptiness in my bank account
a rock of tobacco-hardened alveoli in the bottom of my lungs
and a growing personal trend verging on either a great Oscar Wilde style amorality or complete moral bankruptsy.


I become my fears, my hatred.

all those jaded girls I used to envy, with all their worldly wisdom, and cool, untouchable gazes.

Now looking upon the doe-eyed ingenues with a mixture of distainful snobbery and admiration. So innocent and full of hope. I can't go back to that, I don't know how to rekindle the belief in magic and miracles.


I check my online banking and sadly settle on a parliament and a glass of 2 buck chuck for dinner. It's 2 am and I sit on my porch half hoping the boys next door don't emerge to wonder why I'm perched amid a pile of furniture in only an oversized t-shirt I keep having to tuck under my ass... half not caring at all.


Part of me contemplates a trek to Del Taco, but hell, I'm to lazy to put on pants after moving furniture half the night, and I don't want to lose my primo parking spot. so I watch the glow of the butt ashes attract moths and contemplate a leafhopper that has landed on my t-shirt. Feast or famine. Mostly famine.