wine-ing and dine-ing and numerous vodka sodas later ...

Two months, nearly.
One and a half to be fair.

Lonely, bored and unimaginative. Homeless -
Whatever that means.

So many nights spent on the town
So many people and bizarre, drug-influenced stories

It's over, really truly completely over:
Another ex, another brief sojourn in a life I couldn't live.

Poetic nonsense is frozen in my brain, screaming to be written out but refusing to deliver. My brain is mush, corporate mush, anti-creative mush, lonely mush.