Sitting down.
Most of what we do.
Except for
the exceptional few.
That's beside the point.
Trinkets and
******* games.
Nothing else Is but fuel,
right, Harry? Right, Harry?
Blessed be. Nothing is sacred.

Sitting down.
Thinking about
what I want to do
before I bite
the big one.
I'd rather avoid
most people
than the
thought of an
abrupt decay.

I don't spend too much time there.
I know when I've had enough.

(...)

Think I'll leave my house
and then pass downtown
on foot headed to the freeway.

(...)

Think I'll slow my stroll
and then watch sunset
plummeting from the overpass.

(what an ill consolation)