screaming mad boredom sorrow that is beyond opinion and without ‘concrete reasoning' eyes, like leaky faucets “excuse me's” in a high-school hallway filled with out of control gay retards ‘on' codeine the lifespan of a cloud is, on average, 15 minutes long the narrative feels written predetermined dead upon conception to know what comes next is to k** the ‘life within life' i am describing my immediate surroundings and feelings, because that is all there is lamp animal sorrow i realize that i am not describing my “actual” surroundings or feelings, but that i am describing my perception of these things, which, depending on your worldview, could theoretically be what is “actual” seems like i am feeling legitimate defeat poetry seems bleak extreme bored feelings creating negative thought processes in my brain like, “nothing really matters” and “this poem is retarded” feels like i am from a suburb of ‘cognitive dissonance' called ‘vague city' [something] ‘tired of life'