Postmortem
What's the art becoming for me? Couldn't tell ya. I'm walking down a road now. Deep, dark, introspective self-indulgence. Not where I want to be but here I am, might as fucking well jump in. 39 days down since I lost my wife and I'm fumbling for the means to exercise this thing in me. But there it is, in front of me, a cocoon. I'll pull up my seat and wait and see what comes out. I'm going back to my roots; way past my roots.
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