Because I still don't feel like there's direction I like to imagine all the things I'd be able to do if given an arm and a leg and a pen and the time to close my eyes, breathe, sit and simmer in the ideas that don't leave me, don't leave me, 

driven from the noise like a knife, these ephemeral networks branch off in circles that bring me there and back, there and where, I wonder, knowing how easy it is to scream and how hard it is to pick apart pieces of a hundred icon puzzle, twisted like faces, faces like names, both of which are too impossible to remember that I am left so long awake
Where, I ask, can I find the pictures to mirror your soul, that intangible monument to the apathy, the insurrection, the distance I swear could save the world, my world, something I could hardly bring myself to idealize given more than just this moment, more than just this lifetime, shared between no one like the stories we've agreed to let die, die, 

but i want to try, or so ill say to myself, i want to keep trying, keep trying, lying long enough to weaponize the words to squash more than my own, ego, o