Iím trying too hard for anything to come easy.
So no words swim in my head; no ideas carouse in the corners of my unconscious. The muffled echoes of intelligence reflect off of the mirrors in their home before settling silently into nests of dullness.
Iíve found a place where life is nothing, bad is of no import, and love is irrelevant.
I mean no disrespect to the authors in my head, but