processing Howard Roark
must I prove something? why?...why?...why?... *find intention*
that spark in your eye *intention*, accenting, accepting, my little drug
no spark, I push, I scrape, “I” change…
I am like play dough. moving play dough
is authenticity possible?
where does the resonance occur?
is there anything inherently internal?
why is this so compelling?
does this pointed idea create authenticity?
a cookie cutter map for neurons,
am I merely categorizing, then justifying?
it feels so real. feels, feels, feels, feels…
solitude with time gives direction,
it dims our spectrum of potentials,
night falls, making our lighthouses clearer,
find my lighthouses. “I” am obtainable.
around 12:14 AM