equivocate

fathom bomb
a doctor who somkes

climbing ladders just to get elsewhere
the probability of failure or success

there's no stopping
round shapes are fundamentally natural
circles, cycles, eyeballs, planets

i'm all done, nothing more to write
this was once a genuine need, now it's only faulty drivel to pass time
it gives me excuses to hate myself even more
a cancer
every word is forced these days
don't mark them
cancer, pus, residue
dead moths
an ego so big that the world's in orbit around it

yes, we're all lucky to be alive
but happiness is only found at the end of hard work
it's a job



all this drama
all for nothing