Well the world is full of darkness. A gathering bleakness fills all who inhabit it. I do live alone in this small space. Its barren walls speak no life lived. These unfinished books are filled with nothing to me.

All dreams evaporate in this southern heat. All I am or was is forgotten. The last sand of  my soul is not useful for anything. I am death walking around. In all these full lives of people there is nowhere and no place where will I be loved.

Is there any place for me in this world? Is that all I can be? I guess more to the point a shamrock shake is a sensual thing yes, but also a seasonal thing. I do not know, maybe that is the force of bleakness in this world.