The fall, October 29th
The season of dying, where everything changes and sheds it's skin to bare bone and skeleton
Desolate wilderness, a man could lose it out here If he is a deep thinker or too into the meaning of life's anguish and pessimism
I have been inhabiting this form for 10 years and I have adjusted to the boredom and silence of the rich neighbourhoods, Hiking trails and trees except for wind. Everything up here in the mountains aggravates me, Makes me want to occupy my time with murder, pain and the suffering of others who live life and enjoy it. Running away from the noise and silence and torture that scare them running towards sunlight and sprouting flowers. And I am an ant and bu*terfly and life turns to anguish