March 13, 2002 10:25 PM

On a rather depressing note, I was kind of down yesterday night for no good reason and wrote a short poem.

Why can't all my wounds be cuts and black bruises?

They're simple

And heal

And fade in time.

I wish I'd that courtesy for everything.

I find it kind of pathetic that my only inspiration is from misery, and even when that comes about it produces only mediocre work. Maybe I can change that.