dark bitterness. it starts in the back of your mind, travels throughout your body, stretching you out, spreading you over too much bread, and then it hits the back of your throat.
we're so utterly spoilt. completely. we don't even live real lives anymore...understand, a real life does not exist in a bubble. life in a box is no life at all. so distant from whats really going on, so fascinated with the latest ways to fight our boredom with pretty lights.
its dark outside.
so transfixed by the sounds that can transport us so far away.
..people hearing without listening..

wow. isn't that great? i'm a spoilt little rich kid, trying to find his place in the world. should i do engineering for a living? should i buy this car, or that? should i build that annex to my house? should i buy the fucking big television of my dreams?

yea. i'm the rich kid who's got everything he ever wanted, or should ever want. i write to exorcise myself. catharsis through the written word, metaphors set me free, images give me wings. ..but my soul still aches.

shit load of good that does anyone.