There have been times where words have failed me, or they had no place 'pon my twisted tongue... like now, I speak and it will mean nothing, nothing, I will sing a tune morbid or perhaps driven by fury but it will have no place in my heart or any other persons psyche or passion or concocted religion or disillusioned self, it will stand and wither, and like myself with time becomes bitter and icy, intolerant of what a minds eye could mold out of its hollow being horrified by being given the delusion of substance, of meaning, of value, of soul and human significance... I could not connect two stars together and make a line pretend to snort it and be absorbed in a stardust high... But there is no end to this, this stumbling of spirit within these empty words... I have lost my lustre, and these days only harden my interior with the knowledge of what I was and am still, merely fools gold struck, a momentary spurt of exitement, with no genuine measure.