A reason
for every purpose
under heaven
 

Days fall off the calendar like water off a ducks back, pooling into the base of a 3 minute sandglass [the time it takes to reheat a tv-dinner in the microwave]. I've been writing down my thoughts in sporadic bursts of enthusiasm; not without the knowledge that it helps keep the beast at bay.

I flit between cities looking for the comfort of home and find it in moments; In the gape of a wet moist hole that I plunder with depth of my ache and hunger, In the widening of her eyes and the shortening of my breath; In the sunsets, sunrise, sunset.

The places meld together like harmonies in a symphony. I no longer have the questions I did in the beginning - just the acceptance that some things are without reasoning.
 

To everything
There is a season

 
Been a while since I visited the city and the old girl's changed some, just as I have. I find myself walking down streets that echo familiarity but feel foreign and strange. My hands run over the aged bar rail in Lulu's where I stop to have a drink.
The empty bar soon fills with strangers I don't care to speak with or have time for, though I did see one particular face I'd like to see again - perhaps in a more intimate circumstance.

Leaving then - I round a corner a little past the news stand and sit on a bench enjoying the peace, when I hear a faint crying sound. It persists for a while despite my efforts to tune it out.  Eventually it stops and a woman emerges in its general direction.  She'd been the source of the incessant whimpering as was obvious in her blotchy red face and puffy swollen eyelids. 

First damn day on the job and our Cap goes missin' like a fart in a tornado. I didn't figure the Dead End P.D. would exactly be getting cats outta trees but now I can see just how bad things really are. Place has a few, good, honest hard-workin' souls out here that just can't seem to catch a break while others are drownin' themselves in whatever they can get their hands on.
 
Talkin' to people in that state is bound to turn up nothin' anyway and a big fat lot of it. In my travellin', I'd seen some places that look nice on the surface and have this Texas Chainsaw thing goin' for it underneath but at least people didn't live in fear of degenerates. This place sorta looks like everyone that ever lost hope just kinda gathered in one spot and waited for the other shoe to drop.
 

Dita : feels like a whale
Dana : "We live in an age when pizza gets to your home before the police"
Tani : "He loves me, he loves me not"

Faye would move from the comforting arms of her lover reluctantly, grabbing her coat from the couch with a careful and well practiced grace, leaving her shoes beside the couch she moved across the empty building filled only with the idle noises of the sleeping people within it. Creeping to the concrete steps of the stairs she moved up a floor, going into one of the bare stone rooms and goes in closing a door behind her, sits against a wall, pulling out her notepad from her coat pocket as she became so accustomed to on a daily basis, her skilled fingers skipping over pages with expertise to a blank spot in it. Pulling a pen from another pocket she took a deep breath and stared to the blank pages. "Goodness.. Such an adventure you have had Faye.. So many thoughts to express and get out before you go bloody mad.." her voice whispered out echoing only lightly in the thick concrete walls of the room, she smiled to herself clicking the pen a few times wracking her brain thinking as where to start.