a modern sadness (18/01/04)

depressed apparently for lack of a better pastime,

it's something more like a bad habit than a real tragedy,

and in moments with the first-world luxury of boredom i find brand new ways to sabotage myself for unreachable ideals,

vainly pretending that even the colourless sky above me must somehow be the cosmos tapping into my thoughts,

yet they once again die without ever meaningfully tapping back,.

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