there are times when raw expression is sufficient enough for me, and the formation of words into complete sentences devoid of all the grammatical errors, yet affixed with dainty literary trimmings for surface intellectual effect, means diddly squat.
instead, there is only the feeling, the passion, the thought itself. unclothed. unabridged. fluffless. this is one of those times.
so fuck profundity, imposed standards (that i don't care to live up to), the spider web of existence, the quest to assign meaning to anything in an effort to define unknowns, and the cyclic nothingness of the daily corporate dead-end 9 to 5 world.
life as of late has been the chaos channel on an HD TV set i'd like to turn off. a good "ugh!!!" and the tossing of a meditation pillow across my living room is all i have left in me.
dear tomorrow: can u let me hold a lil solace for a sec...? i know u got it on ya. i'm good for it.
