stuck in that moment that you face
when a cloud is not a cloud but water, hundreds of thousands of drops of steps of moving

men
and women
and the relevance of two numbers marked with ink (which is made up of oils and dyes)
on the upper top right corner of paper (made of cellulose strands inside natural lignin)
hold the same emphasis as the lining of the hair on a musca domestica
what is it then
forward towards that ripened fruit, that bite of dismay when you realize the conglomeration and you are valued (are weighed) differently that being involved with yourself is the first step and the last step and here you are begging that the hundreds of thousands of doubts are wrong and that you are right and that you can actually live your life and have that potential to do just what needs to be done, just the most satisfying amount (at least the closest to what any one person hopes for in their individuality)

and that dried crinkle on the pavement

the one from which you understand holds the oils and dyes

and contains natural lignin

and is made up of hundreds of thousands of pieces of particles that once multipled and drew from a healthy photosynthesized source

may hope as you hope for an ending to be very very extremely far away.





**this is what happens when everyone steals your key cards and you cant get into the gym so you get frustrated and end up enveloping into your already mounting existential crisis.