An idle night for trashwriting

I should be so used to things not turning out my way. But somehow, I get freshly disappointed every time stuff happens. Damn it.
I've gotten super duper lethargic. I am trying. I think. Hehe.
I don't know what awaits me. I am not very keen on finding out either. But I guess I will have to. What a shame. It gets uglier as it comes closer. I could write a bunch of stupid philosophical blah blah on it. But I choose to spare this keyboard. And my own imagination. And your eyes. I always spare eyes. There's pretty they are. I am not so kind to ears though. I cut them off and add them to my own.
I think people are drifting away from me. Not the regular current, I mean. The ones I supposed would be kind of more solid. They's going off. Creeping away slowly. And I don't know how to stop them. Because they's moving so slow I cannot say they's moving at all. But I know they's on a course away from me. And I don't even know why. I am already lonely! Damn. I have to make some new best friends soon. First I will have to make some new friends though. Nah. This time I will take it the other way round. Because they's all going to go here and there after some time. No matter what way I start.
All the stupid English is from Mary Ann Evans and Richard Llewellyn. Good company on Jennyless days. In fact a whole month with no Jenny this. Drats. And double drats.
Two posts today. Of which, one was a desperate cry for an escape plan. Just deleted it. Now now. So much for uncomputerated. But the slow connection is a good repellent. It is 0300h right now. I am sleepy. But there's no reason to sleep. I am not sleepy. I am confused. I think. I don't know. I tried sleeping. I could only think of the fact that I was not asleep.
I have had time to review my old poetry. Gosh. I was so dumb. Gosh. Ten years down the line I will look back and say the same stuff. And there's wheels that turn you know. And we keep coming under them like little berries and stones. And then they keep rolling over us. And we's all some nutwhacks and doodledums and we keep going round that spiral. Spiralling into some great center in the middle of our noses. You know. Right between the nostrils.
Hm. There's other forms of discomfort at home. There's things that happen that you've been trying to get away from for as long as you can remember. And every time you is close to them you shudder out of disgust. There's the apple of your eye. There's much love. And there's worms over everything.
I miss writing poems. I cannot write anymore. I is drained I am. Damn him old harry. That damned crazy old fool old harry. I is troubled I am.
But I am happy. Because I am beginning to see the light. Um. There's an album by that name by the Acoustic Jazz Quartet. Wonderful stuff. I Recommend.
Wow. This post turned out way longer than I thought it would. And I will disappear for some time now. Unless fate throws such a night at me too soon.
I have a feeling I have overpunctuated this transience. Whatever ... ?;':!,." ?!? !?!
O ya. And (on insanely repetitive asking) my dad gave me this ├╝bercool rosary. It once belonged to some Tibetan Buddhist monkie. Yey! There's 108 beads in it.

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