Something miraculous happened last night in bed; I realised I didn’t want so much shit in my life. So this morning I threw out half of my shirts, Kept only the ones that were made by human hand. On the bus we wore our jeans as we always do. Hers were patchy, his were baggy, mine crisp. The dullness of being a student in a real world Weighed on the earbud-framed faces. Walking to...
We walk or bus because we cannot afford Gas or because there is no place to park. From five in the morning to twelve at night, we toil On that which we call `work’. But it’s the kind Of work at desks, in chairs, inside, so we Atrophy and waste. Our minds where once Were filled with the good and necessary thoughts, Are now devoid of living things. The stress And lack of sleep we...