Poughkeepsie New York My Ancestral Homeland

If one fails to break into their past, does that make them a failure? It was a day late in May you cannot expect much from me. The memories came out of the years of dimness. It was the piercing strength of being here again that broke through the fog of years of bludgeoning my brain in to subservience. Births like wasp stings in the eye. Confusion and a new way of seeing. Human life measured in a scale that does not suit its lengths and purposes. Always that goddamn pointlessness punctuated with semi less pointless movements. Memories... now that is the layman's term. We are the peasants of the future. They gussied up the hovels a little bit. Replaced the livestock with pets and the gruel with breakfast cereal. Five hundred years ago they promised us the flying car. We waited out the whole fucking industrial revolution for this. Fucking fraud ass magicians. I'm supposedly to be impressed with this? Just five hundred more years of rules, regulations and gadgetry laid upon us savages. Lying naked in our hovels. Serfs then and serfs now. All they did was fixed up the joint. And at the expense of what? I want to lie naked in my hovel and fuck to stay warm in the winter. But then again I am a man of finer tastes.