The road provides its own meaning.
It’s silent and solitary.
Work is both a palliative and an irritant.
I live in it, and I die in it.
The myths and half-truths told to me during childhood—
they require daily attention.
I can’t rid myself of them.
I can only be aware of them and their poisonous influence.
I fail as often as I succeed.
Living makes sense only to those drunk on
Gloat all you want.
You’d be better off talking to the bottom of a toilet bowl.
You’ve got nothing to share with me.
Days come and are lost.
They blow by without touching me.
I’ve had to work at forgetting the score.
It was a guaranteed loss anyway.
Hell, it was being run up on me before I hit puberty!
Go for lots of commas; it doesn’t matter.
A life lived well is a life lived off the playing field.
From Fractalverse: Volume Three
Digital Art: Let the Day Begin by Shawn Michel de Montaigne