This is one of those times nothing makes sense.  You know what?  It's not going to.  The sooner one realizes and accepts that simple fact, the better.  So the day passes me by in h haze of cigarette smoke, time only marked by how long it takes the next pot of coffee to brew.  No, it isn't wasted.  It just is.  Once again I am okay with that.  For now, I'd rather sit here by the window, detached from all the bullshit below.  These too long blank pages are starting to fill.  I am getting reacquainted with old friends...the ragged, dog eared books of poetry. The ones that collected dust while I chased after some form of socially acceptable bullshit.  For the first time in far too long, my mind is quiet.  I don't expect anyone to understand, could give a fuck less if they tried.  Because today was for me.