Try To Make Yourself A Work Of Art.

I don't know how to live.

I come home and my keyboard dongle is missing
so I have to have my laptop sitting right in front of me

looming

and I feel anxious and claustrophobic.

2pm.
Drunk.
r/futurebeats soundtrack.

Somewhat worried that this could be my life.
Fulfilled.

No Drums.

There is a man standing infront of you.
The man is talking.
Listen to the man.

There is a man standing infront of you.
The man is talking.
Listen to the man.

There is a man standing infront of you.
The man is talking.
Listen to the man.

There is a man standing inside of you.
The man is talking.
Listen to the man.

There is a man standing infront of you.
The man is talking.
Listen to the man.

In Somnambulance I wake.

Given the choice.
I would have stayed in that dream.
Forever.

Green Tea Power.

The joy of drinking tea.
Is vastly outweighed by the need to relieve ones self.
Hourly.

Obsfucated Life.

You arrive early to a place where you're meant to be meeting someone/attending something/waiting for something. There are people around you, watching you. They can see the uncomforted look in the jutting of your eyes. They can feel the unfamiliarity in your stance. They can smell the lack of purpose in your perspiration. They glare at you as you stand there, weighing up the 'fight or flight' option in your head. Your evolutionary traits are irrelevant to you though. You have technology on your side now. You are every person standing at the train station staring at their palms. You are every person standing outside a classroom swiping their fingers across a piece of glass. You are every person sitting alone at a bar pressing a button every thirty seconds hoping for something to change. You are alone with your electronic companion.

Sinuous Bookshelf.

He sits at his desk, staring at a book titled 'Indecision,' wondering whether to read it. It sits at the bottom of a pile of other books, which are atop the speaker to the right of the desk. The book on top is George Orwell's ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four,’ which is a friend’s copy that was left in his car and never claimed. The book in between these two books is indistinguishable to him, as it is the top of the book, rather than the spine, which is facing him. Looking at these books, he is reminded of a conversation he had with a friend who had never read ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four.’ It struck him as odd that someone who he knew had a fondness of literature had never read this well renowned novel. However, he thinks to himself, such modern classics as ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ ‘Catch-22’ and ‘The Catcher in the Rye,’ amongst others, are still sitting in his bookcase, unread. The books in his bookcase are stacked on top of each other, rather than beside each other in a normal fashion, so as to fit them all in, which renders the majority indistinguishable. There are still many that he is yet to read, as he had stopped reading lately. Not out of lack of want but of lack of concentration. He wishes he was reading more. There is a book on his floor. Beside his bed there are two books. In his bag there are three books. He continues to borrow books from the library and from friends, and to sometimes purchase them when he has the money, but these scarcely are finished. On his desk there is a book titled ‘The Strange Story of False Teeth.’