In the Ash Rain

It’s numbers and the understanding that ceases to make sense in the early hours of the morning. I’m dissolving into foreign music and American rock. I’m floating in a pool I thought I’d sink in because the water is salty and dense.

There were days where I’d write, but it always took time; time that I never seemed to have because I squandered much of it doing things I can hardly remember due to the mundane, cathartic, mindless nature of the time wasting. I have no records to keep since the records would have hardly been worth keeping. I’d like to make more of a mark than I have as of yet, but will my time allow me to? Will my mind allow time to allow me to?

The music will keep my mind up for now.