Paradigm shift. That’s the phrase floating about this old skull, as of late. Been putting my things into boxes. I’ll be moving at the end of the month. First time in six years. Nowhere to go, yet. No place of my own, at least. First time that’s happened in ten years.
Author: bruceduluoze
Sunday Morning Thoughts: 3.17.19
My feet are blistered. As are my hands. A familiar ache, better handled by the younger body inhabited upon the ritualistic initiation. Though, to be fair to my current older self- the kid fell asleep in the bar the first St. Pat’s in a kilt.
open
pt. I mayhaps I don’t belong and, the illusion that ever did fades and aches its way away from here maybe, I cling to that what never been the never was, intoxicating and framing the disappoint delusional woes, the dolled up faces wasted, on the eyes of me pt. II alone, although full room around…
The Veracious Facade 