onion eyes

kind of strange to realize that this is it. i mean, i'm writing on the internet for nobody really at all except for myself and that's kind of depressing. like i'm reaching out into the universe but only coming back with a fist full of air. hopefully the electronic world of the internet and my computer is enjoying the tickeling sensation it gets while i type, while i post- otherwise my life will be like the bottom of a pot of beans that have been left on the stove for two days- that no one wants to clean because it's so caked in by now. then again, maybe my life is like that anyway. i'm tired and sick of not doing work and instead just sitting at cafes trying to come up with other things to occupy my time. i'm tired of talking and sounding the way i do. i'm sick of the things i say. i'm bored with my limited knowledge and over-pronounced opinions. i'd like to just be translucent for a while. a piece of plastic wrapped around cylindrically sliding up and down sidewalks. i'm done with creating things that no one will ever like and never having enough time to make things that i like. i'm through with having the only people who like my stuff be people who don't know the difference. i'm bored with thinking about sex i don't get and the memories i don't like. i've grown too old for your face (that fucking face) and i'd like for it to disappear. i'd like for us all to disappear. from time to time.