Life hurts. Time passes and passes and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it. Everything you ever cared about has come and gone, and you never know if you will ever care about anything again. You are left with nothing but your memories and a few faded, creased dreams that you’ve nursed along in your pocket since you were a small boy with wide eyes and dirty hair.
At what point do you give up, lose it, climb into a bottle, into a syringe, onto a bus bound for Mexico? At what point do you start throwing all the bills in your billfold into the ocean, just to watch them float away, in hopes that they will help someone on a distant shore more than they have helped you?
How many more people must I offend, and how many more must I throw away before I move on… before I am lost in distant lands myself…
Then, as it was, then again it will be
and though the course may change sometimes
rivers always reach the sea