I was on my boat, riding the savage sea. I have a hate-love relationship with the sea, I love this beautiful mystery but I hate the waves hitting my boat. My feet are wet but that's part of the storm. The waves are now smaller then they were. Three to four feet high. I must leave the storm now or my boat won't survive but it never stopped. Actually there's something good in it , the wind. Not the blasts that could kill you but the loud bursts of wind that helps your pipe to burn again and again until the storms end. You should always a fire near you, and the light from it will always be there. A little bit of light in this cold darkness. I must stay awake and the night is long. But I think it will be clearer soon. The waves are low -two feet- and the wind less violent. And here I am , on my boat. Where should I go? I don't know yet , enjoying myself in this infinite world
Midnight skies, a white moon above them. Maybe a couple cigarettes, or a joint i'm not really sure. But by these nights you need smoke gently comming out of your lungs and going to reach the moon. Because you wont. It's funny or depressing how you always stay on your space rock and never get to go anywhere else. You'll always stay on the same literally shitty soil. Resigned to live under an economic regime that dictate what you will like, find cool, dislike, hate. An economic system that choose to help or not help you, and people with disabilities know that it rarely choose to help you. So they will let you die. If you're dead you can't show the flaws of that system anymore. Because humans are now meant to produce, to work. But if you can't work you're not seen as a human. This goes with any ideology that sees work as the way you're meant to live. From fascists to social democrats they want you the alcoholic to be dead rather then have to pay you food, t
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