where did this neurosis come from?

the wretched shrivels within me are knotted like affected throats during the saddest of songs.

on the verges of pretention i exist doing little more than that which lurches me onward toward the unfeeling embrace of inevitability.

(the song drones on...)

i can't take this, i can't keep myself up anymore.

turning to face the oncoming day i turn my back on myself.

treading, retreading. treading, retreading...

...the song drones on...