journal 9: obfuscation: midnight

as the aching hands tranquilly encounter each other at 12..

So firmly stationed within this nocturnal position, quietly gazing into this whirlpool of a quadrilateral frame, slipping from focus as my synthetic conscious is vacuumed towards a luminous blank word document; strangled by a disturbing epidemic of pixilated strings of characters, they rigorously interrogate me, “How are you?” Suddenly my mind tingles, and an obnoxious awkward reaction erupts in chemical warfare. The microscopic muscles in my jaw aroused, as if displaced from ordinarius alignment, “I am inspired”.


-Kay