random thoughts. (Yeah, so my thoughts are in meter. I read too much 16th century literature).

somewhere along the road I lost my way,
discarded with so much that used to be
my life, as it was then, at least;

someplace, a ways off from the place I stayed
and looked one final time, but did not see,
or maybe didn't care about your grief.

sometimes... sometimes I try to find something to say.
I know the man who used to live there. Me.
I know the man, but still I have to leave.

Lost things, past times, lost places, and old thoughts.
you cannot swim in the same river twice
you cannot find the golden path again.

You cannot change the past course of your life
but you can turn and take the road ahead.

--

Ah yes, you didn't know: In every alcoholic there burns the soul of a poet. We drink to ease the burning.


well, some are just drunks. You know how that works.