In the boisterous blank that my head has become I cant find anything right now. My thoughts stray and the lack of organization makes the floor disappear from under my feet. It's hard to deal with the smiles, brightened with incomprehensible alacrity that you wear, as I'm trying to think, and reorganize my opinions and decimate them one by one. It's easier to have no thoughts than an excess, that, good sir, applies to everything in my case. The dulcet tone of silence and relaxation has now vanished into combats of theories and possibilities. Oh, if used my thoughts in a profligate manner, disregarding my losses, making space and i would enjoy, calumniating those you couldn't do so. Alas I find myself in a rather intimidating position, where, my thoughts overpower what i thought was me. This is a profanity, the inability to control the very thing I create, second after second... At least I have the reassurance that my creativity will never by abysmal. That is, if I don't die before I can entertain this thought...
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