And so, to wander further down this path of negativity that I find myself so frequently treading I repost a few lines that I penned last night for my mate, Stoner who was, at the time, feeling a bit black and expressing the same sentiments.
I was born
against my will
And yet I find
I’m living still
No feeling. Stealing
oxygen
Depressed expression
from my pen
I pretend. I dance. I sing.
But fuck I hate you
everything.
Richmond Road 
With these words, you could be my ghostwriter.
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Well…. I am perhaps closer to being a ghost than I am to being a writer.
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Very clever… but I think you are a talented writer…
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Dark.
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oh pops you are indeed talented!
Now cheer up and tell me which local we are spending the long weekend at?
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Life is miserable, but yet we have this need to live.
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