a man without a dream

We sat around the dining room table. Papers folded and marked were strewn about. Everyone's eyes were red and wet with laughter. I knew only a few of them, but we were bound together in that moment sharing a love of the absurd, reveling in our inadequacies.

After our game, two friends (one old, one new) chatted about plans and opportunities. Directions and dreams. I sat with rapt attention to my friend's drunk words spilling on the table with our papers. She has such a vision of where she is and where she wants to be. I left envious with a drawing stashed in my pocket,

Alas I cannot swim

The fingers itch. The mind races. The soul throbs. So much to say. The gates are blocked. Stupid fingers.

{They} don't like to think about it anymore.

Yesterday the world was careworn, but loved. Today it is dilapidated, abandoned. I don't know what part I had to play in it be it nothing or the mastermind. Regardless, the weight is staggering.