My back is sore, I am sitting here and there are no items of food on my desk, unless yo-u count the almighty TEA that is sitting here doing its thing, which is to sit here until I pick it up, raise it to my opening mouth and pour some of the liquid contents into the awaiting cavern in order to be tasted and eventually swallowed, warming the insides that happen to be contained with my very being and eventually pass through to somewhere else, either to be used as some sort of fuel or to be disposed of as waste.
Well, some of it would be disposed of as waste. Maybe all of it, depending on the circumstances.
The circumstances dictate that I am rambling on and probably have no idea as to what I’m talking about right now, but that’s okay as I do a lot of that anyway and so goes the ways of things when I am sitting at a desk and have little to go on other than my nose and wherever my nose may lead me.
This is, of course speaking in a metaphorical sense rather than a literal sense. Possibly. It is hard to tell, although it is not hard to tell.
There is a lot of space and I’m trying to fill it up with text, dammit! This is something that should be well understood.
It doesn’t matter if the flow or cadence doesn’t collaborate in a harmonious fashion. If it’s disharmonious, that is okay unless that is not what the aim or the intent is, when it would not be okay, in which case it is better if I just go back to drinking my TEA and avoid any sources of VIOLENCE that are out there, waiting for my eyes to feast upon as they widen and gyres sprout forth from my mind and into the world, surrounding all that is and is not and reach out as I look toward the walls and windows and look upon with great indifference, as there is no form of colour out there except what what is and isn’t perceived and the walls that are separating us all need to be torn down if we are all to get along and move forward, for there is too much unnecessary hate out there and not enough love.
With that being said, I imagine that if the ocean would be a little upset if it had more gyres floating about out there, rather than the current amount that reside about out there at the moment.
Perhaps this is something that needs to be tested. However, there are more important results that must be pursued, such as the peeling of an orange in order to discern the taste of what is contained within, and the sources of all that provides the apples with their delicious tax accounting on a breeze carried only by the echoes of the crying night when hunting for sinuous, solipsistic, superbly spawning salmon.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:12:12
This, something. Perhaps i was going more for phrasing and sound and rhythm rather than meaning or intent. Maybe.
I think that it became less bizarre the further it continued.
Written at work.