The words don’t come up sometimes, like I sit here and think, “Just write some stupid shit,” which normally is pretty easy for a heart that has a steady flow of shit talk like mine. But I just ain’t into it half the time lately. Everything feels boring, mundane, and yet weird and dystopian. How can a dystopia be mundane? That doesn’t even make sense, and yet here we are, bored as fuck and waiting for doom at the same damn time. I should probably shift into hibernation mode, and read more, because mostly all I read is the words that are printed like ticker tape of conscious thought inside my mind constantly. I guess that’s still in there, but I’ve blurred it out, because I’m tired of looking at it. Tired of everything, yet can’t sleep half the time. The mundane dystopia, just occupying the boxes on a calendar, flipping the pages without actually doing anything all that notable.
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