Sitting in the staring sun, the rays pour from the gods. I lay on the dewed grass, inside memories stir with emotions (not a good mix), I feel banal, I feel awkward. . . . . I feel nothing.

All I can hear is self indulgent nonsense, twittering twitter on a real life, vain, bane of my life facefuck.

I don't feel like moving one inch, I want to stay here for eternity or until I feel bored or hungry.

I hear everyone around me, white noise, dragging your nails down a blackboard, a constant sore.

Thinking, thinking, always bloody thinking. Doing, doing, always bloody doing. Its all bollocks, not the dogs bollocks, just bollocks.

I can't get my head round it, I think I've been close, not close enough though. This blanket, smothering me, weighing me down, comfortably uncomfortable. I'm never going to know, my negativity tells me, maybe I don't want to know, maybe, okay, maybe it would be an anti climax to know, a disappointment to know, or maybe there's nothing to know....

In my mind, my clenched fist descends upon the table before me, I'm burning with rage that spreads like wild fire. My exterior is opposite; tranquil with few muscle movements noticeable to the naked eye, This temple of torment is ready to erupt.....