I've decided that it is time

Time for a change, and maybe even a change in blog.
Hello blank white page, it's Mikie here. I've been rounding around the prospect of leaving you, page, but of course find myself heartily on the return.
What time is it? It's May time. Some planet somewhere is in retrograde.
It's time for a change, at least for him. I'm sick of waiting, and hoping, and wishing and praying that sometime, someday I'll do something worthwhile with the extraneous amounts of time that I currently piddle away on a daily basis. There's moments of the day when I am nothing, have nothing, think about nothing, feel as if I know nothing and therefore represent Nothing. And if any of you already know me (which likely is a thing that you do do) then you know too that Mikie Beatty is not nothing. So when those moments arise and I think "Wow I am nothing" I am now initiating a change, for those moments. A counter, so you might say.
See, when this happened (twice now, in time, over the past decade) I made a geographical change and that just plum did it. Is this the answer? Is geography my only horoscopal distinction between meaning and non-meaning? I mean, when I was Friendly Financial-Aider I definitely was stuck between geographies. Only then I had goals to strive for, challenges to achieve. er, or overcome. However you might say that. Then in the time following, it wasn't that I was bored but too busy, and definitely found myself "stuck" between the confines of Hwy 1 and Hwy 17, within the smug smutty 6-mile-radius of Santa Cruz. This was dead-center college, when some had gone and others had stayed and I had awoken from a long winters' nap realizing I had become nothing, was doing nothing and cared about nothing.
Now, for my third great exodus in the history of my life it is finally bloody time for a change. Because I've reached the same strange barricades that once held me in chains with my fat oozing between links and shackles. only now these binds are far less intimate and very strange indeed - because I cannot see them. Sometimes I diagnose the pains as health-related issues, finding myself suffering from this ailment or that. But isn't it interesting that as soon as I get heartily distracted enough all of my health problems seem to melt away like oil-based butter on hot bread, seeping into the wheaty sweetness creating more of a delicious meal than any hard, cold, solid problem that once butter and health issues proved to be.
So here I am, on the brink of change. But by f-ing Golly-G, I've yet to pick what that change shall be.
The easy thing before was college..I guess. Easy ways out. But even still I felt the chill of slashing sharp uncertainties quill back then etching fatal doom to my script, saying Fin Mikie Fin Mikie finish it quick.
Not today, no siree, no this Mikie has hatched
from a taciturn Nocturn
to a full-fledged rattatat Scatter-Bat,
cawing and scraping at my inner-egg
there's a future outside I can taste it
in segments and fractures the shell is a crackin'
but not too soon yet, for I fear of the dragon
that looms o'er me still, like a wild
red demon, I'll wait a bit longer
to dodge the behemoth.
So inside my shell, like a sour red pup
I wait patiently
with my cheeks pointed up.