e he he

ehehe

When i say im going to do away with something mentally, why am i not sure? Why even when i say such a thing outloud confidently, with all conviction, why do i myself, not believe a word?

Why, when up is left, when time is right, when time is short, when nuance and ambivilence meet relativisitc, why wait, why worry?

if everyone posited everything so seriously??

What, to write? what silliness, what folly! But why, and why do we chose stories or to sing?

Why leave something to be discovered, to the imagination, why say anything in rhyme or tragedy, or comedy, or pantomime a euphamism?

Surely we know why, and surely we acknowledge what we are doing.

The internet, housing digital you, crudely and lacking production, each, much affected, projected, like never before, what else, what more???

I dally on a worthy thing, investigate it, normal way, procesies of giving it away

Too much, so much so in fact, that i doubt the validity and trustableness of every single word.

As if it were placed incorrectly, arranged artificially. As if a thousand layers of masks and makeup were worn.

Oh as im dedicated to my stride, my pride and the same recreated woe.

But yet, as with all else and at all other times, i may step out of all this, walk outside of and subjugate file subject that to my mental focus might and sting and fury, whao, its so much.