A Stream of consciousness

Not sure what I hate more... my dead end job, or my dead end street?  I crave antiquity.  Not for nostalgia.  For clarity.  Distractions abound and linger like clouds.  Political or natural, it makes no difference: I observe the change in contemporary climate and cringe.  I must refrain from any weather predictions, for though it looks like rain... who can tell which direction the wind will shift next?  Perplexed and unkempt.  No map, no rations and no grit. Seems all I have are regrets, penchants and parchments.  Who can commit?  Certainly not this deviant.  Feeling stagnant and fragrant.  Just consume and forget...  

My birthday was on the 9th.  I turned 31 for the first time.  I still haven't rescued a dog.  I still haven't touched the pacific ocean. Still haven't forgiven my mom.  I want to spend time instead of tender.  I resent this petrochemical-induced wasteland that was bequeathed to me.  The impractical implementation of industrialization has indiscriminately incinerated what was erstwhile indicated to be imperishable.  No matter, distractions abound.  Just consume and forget...

Reviews

[mrmiagi]

this is fire please enter 25 characters

[Sara Lufrano]

Wow, I really like this. To me, it gets into a but of poetry with all of the "i" word alterations but I followed it and it was good. I hope you continue. Thanks for the read!

[Delicate Pelican]

Thank you for taking the time to give me some feedback! I am glad that you recognized the poetic nature of the piece.