Life has landed, fallen, came out of its hiding place.
I define life in so many ways, until now, now its fallen. Its came to place, a definiton where I do not determine my favor.

My tired eyes, and lonely heart, and... indirection.
I have no idea where Im going these days, whereas...
in past it would have been the end of me.

I drown myself in memories, and hide the reality of me behind a coffee cup. I read books to stray away company. I don't return calls to keep the idea of trusting... out. But I never pick up my pen or my paintbrush anymore.
Just read the magazines.