In Mont-pier I Stayed In A Chateau

(A boy climbed into my bed and he knew no boundaries).

Monday.

Apparently I have a follower. My sole follower. If you would please comment on this post and inform me as to why you are following my blog, it would be much appreciated. Just an expatiation of the mind. Mind me.

The days are progressively moving yet I am progressively not. It's an odd feeling. It's almost as if I can see myself, the soul dislodged halfway across the room and looking on with desperation. Odd, yes. I am reviving my nostalgia and opening windows. Every time I feel that damned breeze, I can swear that it's summer. Summer, summer. Oh, my summers.
It's the kind of dull pang I can't quite put words to. It'd be like trying to tell poetry with a piano; they are both beautifully tragic, but in their own separate ways.

Oh, Marcello... How I wonder...

How I wonder... Wonder and wander and ponder.

Stupid. I'm as Faust, I can't satiate the need for knowledge. For thought. I'm running painfully dry, and my arid throat needs something. Someone tell me something I can digest. Someone... Does anyone really have conversations these days? We were placed pitifully on a pitiful earth. Given love. Misusing love and having babies and babies that are related and halfrelated to babies and babies. Generation after generation, and we still don't know what we're doing?

It's all we talk about.

So, on a lighter note.. I'm collating a Bucket List.