everything is finite.

sometimes i wish i had a strong voice.
or a strong desire. a drive.
you know. motivation, to bring me past this current state of floating.
i need to help something or someone,
i want to have intuition,
to feel it in my gut.

brown headed school children,
flee from their mothers,
and turn into moths,
flying listlessly,
until they are devoured,
by the city that wasn't.

Cure for the Common Old

I have been in urbana for a while and I'll be here a bit longer. But I've been thinking about how its ok only because (maybe) of who is here with me. sometimes I want to start on the next leg of the adventure, and sometimes I want to go back to what i know.

science.