It’s like passing a ******* kidney stone that doesn’t even exist, one that lingers and claws on your minds eye like a cyst upon creation

it’s a focus shift, a pool of indifference, a cry before an inner audience uninterested in the parchment, too jaded to focus and too faded to care

it’s an outside perspective on your own ******* process, “this guy’s mouthing off like he’s got something to say, who is this ******* and why should we care”

it’s when the ratio of happening to happenstance breaks the mold of your monotonous grind, when the words set to define the sounds of a generation fall into a digital pool of overpopulated subterfuge

It’s a deflated message and an idealist’s shift to anarchism,  too ******* at the cynics and too distraught to bother with a response

It’s like starting to *******,  giving yourself blue *****, and not calling yourself back for a second date