1Bicket.

2.
1.
Go.

two dimes in a finger food company, and the less of a penny you have,
the less pasta you need to last a day./
no, its something we havent done for a long time,
yet its still something like a seizure of your third aunts sister twice removed.
and then the little things that dont really matter anymore,
and the less ways other things matter to you.

you want to look at it from any way possible, but you realise that there really isnt any other perspective. and you live your life like its 2D.
or just a point.

which i lack in this state of mind. but hey, singapore is a state in itself.
a state, please save it, like an interrupt, and then when the whole interrupt recovery system and algorithm is over, restore my spirit, and repair my soul.

soulless shell of of the unknown way of doing what i do and things that i dont really think of anymore. its just salty on my tongue and the next time i want to get all these, please stop me, and tell me what happens all the time.

all the time. Age. the art of working through time and getting your dues paid. and then buy some sort of respite from which you are able to breathe through your skin. or maybe through an exposed orifice, artificial or otherwise, from the front of your neck. from you neck, what the heck.

ten times the richer, none the better and no way, youre never going to get better if you keep doing this, how will you get great if nothing ever works this way, and nothing much will ever help you in the times of desert.

Someone would need a dessert when it comes to a pack time as such, and the air that surrounds me is taking the flavour out of my skin. the flavour out of my eyes. and the pupils that i do not teach, dilate until they cramp up and the other tendon snaps.

cramp and snap, the way one runs down the road in time for catching a bus that is long gone 2 stops away. too bad for you. to have seen this coming and still want to worry about all that happening. What is there to do. what is there to be done now that the hurricane turricane has sped past and eats up the next few sentences of your head. head. Head.

A head, ahead. not even in front, and you shall soon see that what i am typing would make sense after awhile.

after all,
the cake has already been taken.

i guess i never expect anyone to read this. but if you do come across this, and find all these musings somewhat disturbing, i beg you not to be alarmed. maybe its just a space to come to when in need. maybe its just a respite, a corner for some self-reflection. maybe i think i would like to remember how messed up i was, in the future. maybe i could teach someone something.

please dont take any of this to heart, you, me, or anyone in the future who reads this.

Thanks for commenting, if any =)

God bless, and have a nice day.