forced march

The ugliness of this… the difficulty of creating it… the cumbersome nature of its flow… the played out tropes… the tired metaphors… the dusty style… it all weighs heavy like another horrible simile. Still… committed to this space… to this experiment… to this idea that spilling thought pure and uncut is worth while… time slips by… measured in unnatural keystrokes. Sense is hard to see… incoherent and rambling yet existentially necessary…… the entropy of consciousness… the effort of order… the toxic drip of uninspired phrasing… out of mind out of measure words drain, sit, dark, motionless… undiscovered.