Genre Fiction. Page - 308

Standing on one leg.....A manic muse fighting one last battle....Hearing the pet sounds as i soldier onward,,,,Too tired to think or feel....Humanity fading to black...

Too happy to be sad......Hearing the impostor syndrome at 3am.......Justice is blind!....Flawed humans trying to be real.......Flawed humans trying to be real....

Millenials knowing infinity.....Dead Poets rising fron the ashes....Pearline Felder taking me beyond the yellow brick road....I am what i am....I am what i was...

Trying to care despite reasons not to.....An x man living within my own personal matrix....Seeking moments of sanity from external numbness....Saturday comes..

Tender eyes making sense of the senseless.....The human spirit fighting to survive one more day.....Side-Stepping Coronavirus Madness.....The end is near....The end is near...

Pushing beyond a manic mind....Embracing destiny as i walk the plank....The essence of Beatrice Maye touching a complex psvche...Eleanor Rigby smiles...

Is it too late for James Taylor to save the world.....Everyday souls trying to exist within a simulation....Thoughtful dialog fighting to be heard over the noise?

Coming to the end of a long and winding road.....Feeling the effects of numbness....Using the last bit of strength to aim for an elusive destiny.....

Melancholy Babies existing inside Tijuana,Mexico.....Pure pain rising to the surface anew....Manic humans continue onward with the programming.....Apollo smiles...Apollo smiles....

A hermit lives out his golden years in a remote part of Mississippi, surrounded by open farm land, with more trees than traffic, and plenty of nature. His days are mundane, quite boring, and measured by how often the grass grew until a skunk came on his premises one day and interrupts his daily routine and causes the police to show up late in the night.