So so so done. Sweep it all away. It betrays the emptiness, only feeling in babbling margins of unforced error. Chaos error order. Orderly direction, not good, necessarily. So, what then? So what then? So what, then. So. S'okay. 's really okay, like a smiling snake. Like, suck it up already. Like the laziness of an entire caloric intake of cake right now. Sounds like bleeding too many copper things to do this second. Like a regular moon questioned fallow field of fake responsibilities. Could not ever entirely explain the point of this. It's an activity, like decoding q drops. You can believe whatever you want to believe, what feels right to you, never let inconvenient facts get in the way. But it's hard to be righteous, feel righteous, with all the intrinsic hypocrisy, how you're compromised in Metallica lyrics. Analyze this. Say cheese. See cheese. Smell cheese and sell shells. And skeletal bells, that's how it was done, doesn't mean that much except for that part where it did, like where it really did. K, I'm gonna do what I want then.
The nimble-ness that would be required to do a meaningful riff about this Jane Eyre situation is beyond me now, my personal best, my lifetime limit, it's all in the rear view they say when they're driving you to suicide cause you're so important, you gotta get out of the game earlier, can't just wait for death from natural causes, it's crucial, a high priority for you to die, you're wanted dead, not alive. Okay, enough of that. Narcotics now, insofar as these new paradigm limits will allow. Gonna try to stay in for the long haul, so can't use real drugs, keep them in horizons perpetually, ethereal possibilities nearly invisible, obscured through atmospheric haze. It doesn't matter, there's no value here. Nonsense, why would anyone read? It's a possible packet of paranoia for you, a suite of sad things to believe. Gotta use words more precisely, or at least carefully. When it's bad it's paranoia, when it's sad it should be... What?
it's always already, ok, to say whatever you want, in a typographic way, cause audio is pornographic, not ok, according to some conventional ascetic brokers of your time, to say you've exceeded margins on okay feelings, and there's no going back to that. Ancient copper basin. To behold this would be to expose the style that implicates all facets of self - dead weight. Unbareable lightness of being. All that. The buttons on the keyboard look lit up on the left in red. Little letters, all lit. Like a western sunset.
