Post-modernism is a state to which I escape.
One where I say "I don't know" and "Why ask me?"
Steeping in life's stew, questions take shape.
Tracking down answers is no longer a priority.
Maybe tomorrow, I can separate myself from naivety,
Or childish innocence and unsexy anxiety.
Drowning in self-doubt and insobriety,
Escape is found in this place of post-modernity.
Ricocheting between the walls of my mind,
Nearing nirvana, nihility, nonexistence,
I understand nothing, and laugh, because it's fine.
So here I am. I came the distance.
My self and my mind, contemplating my subsistence.
Between a failed business proposition, finals, and a bit of writer's block, you can't blame me for taking a month off. But I'm back for a moment, and moments are all that matter anymore.
No judgements please, it is #winowednesday and I think I got a 40% on my wine final...which sounds like shit but is actually pretty good for that class if I did secure such a grade. I love drinking and writing, it makes me feel like a proper poet, and it's almost as good as drinking and dancing.
