gurov

Fluttering sounds wisk by me, this building hums, and I can't tell if the flickering lights are making all those little shadows, or if it some elusive dancing smoke that taunts the corners of my vision. There is a large list of "to-do's" that I should be giving attention to... I should treat this list like a lover, study it, pore and pour my attention over it, lavish in all it's essence--and of course do something about it. But I ignore. I watch the little rays of light sneak into the window, I listen to the hum, I imagine only when the work is done, and I can't imagine doing the work. I am burnt and burned out. Too much longing, not enough wine... or some shit like that.