The River

Thursday, August 14, 2003


I thought of something fucked up. A dream that I think I might have in the future: I will be beside a grave yard with a golf club and a bucket of balls. I'll start hitting balls into the grave yard, and they'll bounce and careen crazily around off head stones. And I'll shout to all the dearly departed resting there, "It's not fair to you!! You did not have enough time, and I love you!!!" It was not fair. And it wasn't fair. Not fair.

My eternity is only my lifespan. What else could it be? My forever is hole to hole.


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