lost in the snazzy bits of reality? trying to get cohesive thoughts of reason together to fabricate an escape plan from the grind? the literal dimensions of a cube is at the mercy of the walls you can construct and deconstruct with the gray matter between your ears - space and freedom are relative. an endless faucet drips a primordial soup of incomplete thoughts, half baked feelings, and swirlpool of forgotten emotional baggage on the shoulders of the weary traveler. who stops to smell the flowers but forgot to remind the cat that the world should stop turning at 5:30 so he went home instead. heavy eyelids are my only crime, from a dusty day of cube farming. and so with quiet fingertaps on the keyboard i give the final salute to another day's dollar on the powerful all-american paycheck - thank you for allowing me to succumb to the temptations of greed, false pretensions of power, fast cars hot chicks new guitars, and to live the american dream in my new underwear.

it's weird how much effort it takes to not make sense, when you consciously understand that you probably don't during most of the day.