sounds, and words. words, and sour.
the fan is droning on, but there is little pity and sympathy.
the book is open but i stopped reading because absorbing the sentences gave me a headache. Also, i found myself voraciously hungry for an ending.
the tv is switched on but i am not watching or paying attention.
the computer is constantly playing the same song over and over, but it does not matter because though i can hear the words, i am not listening.
the handphone is within reach, so i type on, exercising the use of concealment and such. i say, it could be a tool for maximising human contact, and comfort.
supposedly, these were intended to fill up the volumes of my relentlessly scary, black and rapacious spaces.
i thought they were working until,
i realised that i am writing all these down and then therefore, they cannot be working at all.
the book is open but i stopped reading because absorbing the sentences gave me a headache. Also, i found myself voraciously hungry for an ending.
the tv is switched on but i am not watching or paying attention.
the computer is constantly playing the same song over and over, but it does not matter because though i can hear the words, i am not listening.
the handphone is within reach, so i type on, exercising the use of concealment and such. i say, it could be a tool for maximising human contact, and comfort.
supposedly, these were intended to fill up the volumes of my relentlessly scary, black and rapacious spaces.
i thought they were working until,
i realised that i am writing all these down and then therefore, they cannot be working at all.
