It has been almost one bad year since I have written anything, though there were enough things and happenings to boil my blood. I would be kidding myself if I say I hadn’t the time, for time is not a quantity scarce to me, despite me often complaining about the contrary. I entered the world of suits, a race for money and a race for tying sackfuls of sand to your feet to keep you from wandering. I have enough money now, and I know now it’s not money that I want.

I am getting asphyxiated thinking of how my metaphors have eluded me. I have never been so literal. And there is nothing in this world that I despise more than being literal.

I am not going to aim for coherence in this piece of shit, I have eaten too much garbage and need to flush my insides out before I can sleep easy and start being normal to myself again. I am ashamed to publish this, but I will do it anyway. As a poet you lack strength, for you know your foolishness is unbound. As a man of suits, you will never lack such courage, for fools around you would be roaming brazen, instilling in you a great confidence.

I am trying to regain the touch of Athena, and free the crazy little man in my head, the one that makes me laugh while I sit on my table writing mundane menial codes to add and subtract things of little importance but huge money. This is how this shitty article must end, abruptly. I will try to focus the next time.