here i am, in a chair, sitting.
i'm here, right now, writing this.
all the while, the time that i have left here (in the chair - in the room) is rapidly shrinking.
it always has been, from the moment i walked in here for the first time, but the time has shrunk to a terrifyingly small amount.
when it gets this small, you really notice it....

soon i'm gonna be shot across the world.
there'll be a new chair, in a new room, where i'll write new things.
of course, a new timer starts ticking down then, too

last night i drempt that i made things.
i drept that i wrote things - drew things - sung things.
it was great, until i woke up, tired.

...









i wonder if i can make everything?