Deflated

The poem got canned,

The usual lyrics no longer apply,

The downside of creativity

Is not when it runs dry

(The sincerity of rhyme

Is always in question...)

Finding this amid the clouds in your coffee

Or that in the cracks of the sidewalk,

It isn't hard to find your game

Or make up my own rules

I wish it hadn't been so humid today. It was really nice outside, but really muggy. So I opted to spend the majority of my day inside with Ryan playing the original Halo. How all beautiful Saturdays should be spent...

I wrote the title to this post before I even knew what I was gonna put up. I never do that, it's limiting. Only this time it just seemed right.

And besides, despite the morose title I feel better. I know why too, which is always more rewarding.

"There is no way our shirt cured AIDS"

A little more PBS and then time for bed.