Monthly Report

It seems I've become a monthly reporter, as it were. Every 30 days or so I have something to say. Or, some need to check-in, I guess. Checking in with you. With myself.

I have no news. No racy or sublime tale to regale you with, I'm afraid. Just...nothing.

Winter, I suppose, brings this lull.

Or, maybe the reality is that middle age has finally caught up with me. I don't look my age. I was told this just the other day when I confessed the true number. But I am the age I am, nevertheless.

I could just fade into the middle distance. Maybe I am. In the middle distance, far from it all. Far from anyone.



memories like fingerprints are slowly raising
me, you wouldn't recall, for I'm not my former
it's hard when, you're stuck upon the shelf

hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away
hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away
hearts and thoughts they fade...