I'm becoming cynical.
Like a sun dried plum that's being picked in a jar full of brine.
What a jarring thought.
What a thoughtless jar.
I'm filled with distrust.
The sediment of my own juices clouding the judgements of my own container.
The smudge marks of plum covered fingers blocking my jarring visions.
The discontent of the contents of my mind.
The mindlessness of my discontentment.
The clouded mysticisms of my fermenting sentiments. Sentimentally sending mental missyncronicities to the hypocrisies of my hippocampus. The calamities of my thalamus.
Sentimental sediments and sedimentary sentiments of my infused confusions and confused infusions.
Help me!
Send help.
No one knows what the fuck is going on but I feel like I'm the only one that's aware of it.
Fuck you.
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