switch it off

I didn't take many photos this summer. it occurred to me, cause this time last year I was sticking together dozens of black sheets of construction paper with spring and summer photos. now all I have is a few shots somewhere in the web, taken at a few afternoon walks. I sat throughout the summer. no lakes, forests, clubs. just a smart jacket and office computer with a password – eight or twelve characters, small and capital letters and one special character. cover your feet, cover your tattoo. in the evenings my relationship grew, then it fell apart. at nights there were rows and sticky sex. everything gets washed down like watercolor, the July rains might still have something to do with it. I'm tired, I've got two weeks of holidays and no plans what to do with them. no money to make any plans anyway. I bought books and magazines, but I don't read them. I don't visit places. the season is fading away. girls are slim, neat and distant. I'd like someone to take me somewhere, but things like that never come when you want them to. I have this picture of myself in beautiful scenes, I know they can happen, cause life can actually be like that. but I don't seem to find them.
burning thoughts come to my feet, like: I make positively no progress at yoga, my love is destructive and I don't lose weight at all. visualizing basement brings a relief to me, which probably isn't the best symptom of my mental condition.