sliding up and down and totally confused by all the physics that regulate the movement of the world of social interaction.

because sometimes i feel comparisons and note copying...i mean...

bump bump

so somehow the thought came to pass that there should be something else, some substitution for all this stress and the apathy-fueling tractor pull of boredom that...

livin'

there are too many. too fucking many. sometimes the idea of collapse, implosion seems the most promising...

in a

back to the point is what was happening when the replay and subsequent alternative future of less subtle moods fizzled and flashed and snapped was that...

dumpster

thinking that the reason was some sort of chilly superiority, although the random laughter was thought to be sometimes a bit maybe exaggerated and the same would probably sort of slightly completely and seldom be said about the versa, or the vice (depending on your sight-line).

found reasons to be simultaneously bitter and relieved at maturity or hair growth in slightly longer strands in parts of the head...

"she was an american girl"

but that wasn't even what i was talking about. though the underside slightly behind the rise is probably a big part truth, only i...

"get lucky sometimes"

meaning less in one direction and more in another less suspected...

i decided on the ride home that making sense was not something i wanted to do.

i highly recommend screaming into a pillow. at random points. without warning. when out of sight. no criticism of said scream. release. inhale. exhale. spike pillow. walk away smiling. or at least...

"ain't nothin' left no more"

sometimes i remember my lack of a point of reference.