bearability Troubled Wanderer Sometimes I can scarcely bear it, this world. No, not the world, not the planet, that I can bear. What can't be borne - beared - is this human system, not by me anyhow. Probably it doesn't matter but I am stuck here. The tedium, the retentive anality... it's killing me. But I'm too strong to die from it and that is unfortunate, perhaps. I don't know where to go nor what to do. No, I do know what to do, and where to go, but I can't get there. Money is the thing that prevents me from doing the things I want to do. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, capitalizer! Oh, you won't feel the effects. You've smoked too much today, merchant. Black tar, everywhere. You have us all trapped and your mantra is "freedom!" It's killing me, but somehow I bear it all too easily, and my resentment grows. Go with the flow, says the lead tuna, and soon they are all trapped in a net and die. No flow for me, I resist when I can and increasingly it is my only route to merriment, seeing as the ocean of friendship has been overfished and now we grow them on farms, on farms we grow our artificial friends. What lies beneath the sweatshirt with the high-price insignia, a man? Someone at all? I sigh, I collapse, I collapse over and over but I'm no accordion so there's no sound borne of my languishment... 060226 what's it to you? who go blather from