the uncanny loss of interpritation
shallow, or mabee cold, but not like i would have expected, the dimness of this existance is matched only by the inteansity of its brightness...maybee that parodox is the meaning to all this, and still the loneliness of my hierarchy stings, almost like a slow, dull headache...(its hard to find the solution to a problem when you dont even know what the problem is)
im thinking maybee everything has to do with the fact that nothing much happens here, here being my life...too flatline, too redundant, and i truely do believe that monotony is the death of inspiration...though some would say that its beautiful and maybee even the very fabric of what life is sopposed to be...
but then again, when do i listen to anyone else?
i might listen more if someone would start talking
but this "it" that i refer to is probably only my fault and a product of toiling too much in my own devices...
still got nothing....
oh, well...
still waiting to find something worth waiting for...
the end...
im thinking maybee everything has to do with the fact that nothing much happens here, here being my life...too flatline, too redundant, and i truely do believe that monotony is the death of inspiration...though some would say that its beautiful and maybee even the very fabric of what life is sopposed to be...
but then again, when do i listen to anyone else?
i might listen more if someone would start talking
but this "it" that i refer to is probably only my fault and a product of toiling too much in my own devices...
still got nothing....
oh, well...
still waiting to find something worth waiting for...
the end...