it's all just hopeless imperfections. things to look over or to sweep under the rug because of their inevitable existence. in these taunting hours of total revelation i can pin point the exact beginning. i can see through the tangerine stars laced with coincidence and strategically placed, one by one, in their solitude. i havent found what it is ive been looking for, but i have a map and the carrot is dangling before my sleepy eyes, trusting the blue spiral dreams hungry for realization. the weight of the world and the silence of not knowing defines the present state. it settles uneasily, separating like oil and water until shaken unmercifully. im going to kick the jar.
