I quit my job.

I quit.

I did.

I’m not in that jail of ideals any longer.

I’m going to have to get a job
in a cafe or a pub
or my local Aldi -
and see if I can survive
on the outskirts of
my life.


Floating.


Harmless.


Like a bath-tub contained squid.


I’m SO glad I did.


Writing,
and music,
and art
are more important
than anything else
I ever did.


Let’s run away.


October?

Sounds good.



See ya soon, kid.