Journal

Lately I’ve been thinking. 

Thinking about life, lust, love — lust for life.

The lines are blurred as to where I put myself in.

360 is in gray, nothing in absolutes.

Like how can I be sure, when no one’s sure with me?

The common coping mechanism is to pour myself a glass and light myself one.

A slight buzz always helps.

Where are we?

Okay.

I’m lusting for life and what it can offer —

But somehow, my libido’s run low.

Metaphorical testosterone gets lost in translation

Because the line is blurred with the analogy too.

"Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity." 

— Ecclesiastes 1:2

What am I? Who am I?

Who am I but a prideful son?

Is this what I really wanted?

To quote my favorite artist:

"We love Jesus but we learned a lot from Satan."

To say that I’m lost is an understatement.

I’m no longer wandering.

No wonder, I’ve never been this astray.

This city I live in, far from the glitz and glamour I was promised.

Should I blame the city? I’ll retract.

This LIFE I live in, far from what was promised.

Where’s the service center when you need it?

I’d like to make a return.

Why am I anxious when I have a plan set in motion?

It’s all about the follow-through,

Says me — some years back.

How can I be so wrong?

The real victim of this victimless crime.

Goddamn the victimization.

Like a lamb, helpless against a pack.

But sometimes it feels like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, you know?

Fuck.

No more parties in LA.

But pour me another,

Would you?

One more for the road.