Polaroid grins and half shut eyes
Bitter sadness suppressed
No thought may run free
Let it be
Goals are vividly unclear
You're fucking lucky to be here.
Get what you can, I suppose.
There's really not much else to be done. It's quite a state I am in. Nothing I'd ever imagined. Life in the bunker is so unusual and demeaning. Time, light, night/day, all lost. Self placement is confusing, to say the least.
But deep loneliness is always prevalent. Failure is blatant, even harsh. The simplest of things have turned into sad memories of reality.
I'll get out of here some day.
I just don't know the way.
