**** metaphor
Something written raw is real
I need truth without censorship
Please, crash down on me
I've got no place whatsoever
Where is this honesty that haunts my mind?
Is it's translation possible?
Are efforts in vain?
Will this be, again, wasted time?

"Do you have something to work on?"
"Yes."

Critical self expression under an invisible eye
Pointless pondering twists my fingers
and those twists fire neurons
proving an unending cycle of evaluation
Pointless and without reason, nonsense
Today I feel torn
and reach for a less fictional explanation
of what needs this page
and of why
Tell me, who the **** cares about this?
I don't need it
I hardly even value it
Better here then soaring without direction

Vague function, left unending