It’s the dream of a lifetime and I’m throwing it away, seems in moving forward I’ve left nothing more to say, nothing more to pay, I left it so no choices will ever matter either way. I have no desire to plot the twist, I’m well on track to barely exist. Were the pyramids built on their tips and flipped over? Am I still emotionally hung over from those 9 weeks sober? Stinking mass of confusion and solution, believing in reason when reality is delusion, transcendence as dissolution, come witness my revolution. Round and round the sun we go, things seem to change but there’s nothing new to know, day becomes night then night starts to slow, one more time ‘round that sun we go, attraction to destruction as a bespoke mass production, big-budget enterprise of nebulous induction, one more time ‘round that sun is the instruction, march on soldier, this isn’t life’s deduction. Redaction? Inaction? Semi-autonomous coordinated interaction? 

Penny for your thoughts? Penniless and fraught? Life never is what life is never not so give one more time ‘round that ol’ sun a shot. Seems moving forward is the only choice we got.