Making the best of these mornings. Jet black and below freezing. 100 miles to 2nd guess myself in everything. Only apathy reigns over the insecurities. I made this bed and I must get out of it. But it's hard to get up without the sun. No light. Te tunnel is never ending. Soon I'll be ending. And The tunnel runs. Always 2 steps in front of my own feet in search of something anything different to greener pastures but monotony the spark is gone(desert lands) I'm living in the past, the wasted time. I'm wasting mine. One day. Too late.