Hypothetical Acid Trip Rant
Monotonous exasperation is the name of the game. Frivolous indulgence in parentheses mind you. A cruel uneventful state of apathy is my life. My thoughts are monochrome. My actions are pathetic in an eternal, meaningless pit of melodramatic solitude. Dancing to the tunes of detrimental bullshit. Writing what ails the mind. Typing what makes the mouse covet rotted homogeneous mixtures. Seeing black where others see blissful foolishness wrapped in awkwardly-attired suggestions. Serial formality in deed creates finite informality in thought, word, and deed. Provisional chills of pleasure make the days seem shorter, while inexhaustible boredom makes jack a dull homo-inferior. And hoping for something other than chocolate mint-flavored dental floss with which to cleanse the gaps between one's duty and responsibility. But the Mantra beckons to be heard. The avalanche has already started. The apocryphal reality of our day and age has turned love into an apparently treatable illness. The flowers turn back into dirt and the fluctuating, paradoxical beat goes on forever and ever.
Yeah, don't ask, I think it might be a free-verse poem or something. I don't even know...
Yeah, don't ask, I think it might be a free-verse poem or something. I don't even know...