Hello fellow necronauts,
how goes thee?
I am dead. And learning how to be dead is very difficult.
It is difficult to be surrounded by a group of swags who don't know that they aren't really not-dead, just pretending to be not-dead.
It is depressing but I am prayerful enough that I hope one day something might begin to make some sense. (Did it ever?) I don't know, but there was a time where emotion thrived and where poetry still meant something. In the zone of the dead, everything is numb, fruitless, and broken, and debris flies all over the place for no particular reason. What is after this? I have no idea, but I am glad I have somewhere to write anonymously about.
Keep in clutch,
-The Archer