Gears grinding gritty thoughts through your head.

More and more meaningless, moot monotonous drivel.

Such is life, a lacking, lonely, listlessly lost reticence of experience.

*Crack*

Worlds whirling and waving without bound in your mind.

Colours covering and corroding your creativity’s corruption.

Silently slipping through the slits of your sublime self,

is the real madness.

Reality, a repetitive routine of the random, of irrelevance.