Nothing New.

It was nothing new, just another piece of work to look through. Too emotional for my liking, I thought, but in certain ways I found it true. That is, supposing I needed to rant in depression. Supposing I felt the need to inscribe a part of my life with philosophy.

Over and over again my eyes darted line by line.

Then that unexpected name popped up.

It's been years, I realised. It has got to be something new. What if it isn't? That would feed to the uneasiness...

But I think too much sometimes, so brush it off I will.

It's nothing new, anyway.



On another note:
Midnight oil lamps burn no more. No more dragging ourselves around like zombies, or looking like pandas.


Oh wait, exams are on the way...

I talk to him when I'm lonesome like;
and I'm sure he understands.
When he looks at me so attentively,
and gently licks my hands;
then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes,
but I never say naught thereat.
For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes,
but never a friend like that.

~W. Dayton Wedgefarth