I want to get so blind stumbling drunk that the earth divides herself in twain; and my half takes me up to heaven, and then I want to go low again, let the oceans sink me down into hell, to drown all this creatures tiresome ambitions.
I'm dying in mundane status quo; leaking icemakers and clogged disposals, traffic fines and shopping lists, car repairs and dinner guests, and the endless wearing, wearying wearing out the body, wearing out the clothes, wearing out the friends, wearing out the soul- need new shoes new wheels new goals; need new gods; Iβm stuck in the shoals.
Pick a quiet spot where the only noise heard is grass growing old; for lifeβs a careless happenstance; that we should even be here, dreaming forever our pick-pocket dreams, one day this bubble will burst its seams and weβll go back to mute possibility, where weβll be filled up, for eternity of eternities-