Emptiness and Entrance

Here lies enough thoughts to subdue the times when I am dead… If there was a distinction between distraction and novelty, would there be gaps in novelty? The silence of indemnity lies in the self awareness of the ruined ones to take points up with aggressors in aggressive manners. When I see the light, am I dead or is it just the fluorescent light above my cubicle? I am becoming a story I wrote when I was young. When I was younger I was the stories I write now. But then or in the midst of my imagination now I was just doing what I wanted without past, present or future glaring at me so definitely. Saying good morning sarcastically. Not content with the movements of functioning in the fantasy world or lying lights. I need just a tad more then this. There may be a place for me yet. I remember certain slogans from times past. As they echo down my path into that exact story I hated reading in the commonness and familiarity of the plot. Sad to see dreams ending as a common lyrical theme of crooning. Obviously I am making fun of Bruce Springsteen. Its no ones fault though. Right? Life comes at you quick. Then fucking swing back when it attacks you. Or at least choose the ground where this battle is going to be fought.