Carving a shallow coffin to scatter deliberations into; with a burial shroud of tangled arguments and stray sentiments. It's that paradigm shift again, a holy transient period that invariably reenters with the welcoming of another null void. A hard smack in the face would do, thanks, if only to keep my thoughts back to structured reality. A failure in multifarious, forcible diversions is that the very thing that's meant to be buried normally arrives with excess determination, pomp and circumstance. In this case the argumentative flourishes only occur in my hesitant mind, on my part alone. I'm beginning to despise my subconscious and its innate ability to introduce tiring spectacles, that, and my physique for not cooperating with daily demands. A round of chagrin for everyone.
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