or maybe perhaps like a piece of chalk. this is the most interesting mood. part of me is in a rhythmic frenzy, a transparent, diluted syrup rushes through my too real, perhaps mocking, mass of brain and the other, this irrevocably dense, white noise- feeling the existence of nothing, yet inviting the bone-crushing calamities of this world.
time deteriorates me; it scuds, wrings, tumbles and hammers, irons, hangs me out on a single thread, some lifeline that connects birthpointa and pointbeyond.
