Morning commute

This is the confluence off to 94  And 90. Traffic here always gets really really bad. I wonder why they don't add another lane. Or even take away a lane so there isn't that awkward merging of the two highways. Honestly I thought our city was better mapped out than this. Don't we have city planners?

Star Trek, Van Hunt, Random Couplets, and Infinite Sadness

Mirab, his sails unfurled.
Shaka, when the walls fell.

And all this never knowing?
Superstitions and silly gestures.
Warding off infinite sadness
for as long as it may be held at bay.

Or rather:
isn't it funny that we have a Ms. Universe,
but not a Ms. Solar System or Ms. Galaxy?

Why is it so easy to skip to the inevitable conclusion?
Why is it so easy to predict?

Curse this human mind with its dire thoughts.
Curse this will that fights inevitability.

When I wake up tomorrow,
I will be older, colder, and cursed.

Life will fall on my shoulders,
my knees will buckle.
I will laugh one more time,
I will turn to dust:

Blown away over the edge.

Blue Line

And that's what I would've wanted to hear:
"I'm sorry. I'm not angry, I'm just worried."
As an 8 year old, as a 23 year old. As someone with "almost conduct disorder"--someone who has run away several times--"I'm just worried" is all I could ever really hopeful.

But now we are tracing down a boy who has managed to not care about what I've said, and seems to care even less that his girlfriend was crying at him to stop running away. He's still run away'd. And I am pissed off.

He is going to die. 18 degrees. Sunrise is still 3 hours away. He is going to die and its going to be my fault because people either love me or hate me--but usually I'm just misread. And he misread everything I have said as a sign of disrespect. And just happened to skip over my many compliments. I don't think my consciousness can carry this.

Wow. When men want to kill themselves, they really carry through.