Let's See. Sandwich?

I woke up early today. Sipped my Glucon-D. Over. Lying down is a pain. Not a backache. Neck sprain? Nope. Arse mole, eh? Probably. No, not really. The time has come to pull my act together. Lying up? Pun. I was wondering if I'm trying to make sense of life. Having said that, I think I need to take a leak. Back to business. The regularity of naturality. Ooh. I write to liberate myself (from?) , structure my thoughts (why?) , and try to understand why I exist ( oh really?) . It all boils down to desire (of? for?). Emancipation of the soul (pseudo-intellectual?). Every moment, every miserable moment ( I mope? I whine? I, pessimist) I think I deluded myself the previous moment. The vagaries of memory. But, it's not just that, is it? Ranting is a pain. I am a pain. Arse mole. Prick. Swell. Prick. Pop? I wish.  

Actually, if I think hard enough, I might classify myself as an adventurer. Not the usual adventurous sort, sadly. In a more profound sense. Very good. Very deep. No fluids? Sorry, I'm not allowing anyone to jump. Crack head? Sure. There's a bottle of water staring back at me. I can look through you. Through your guts, into the other side. Continuum of space. In beginning lies the end. Vice versa? Don't dare. I don't waste time. I waste water. I waste electricity. I should not. O Conscience My Conscience. Pull my scrotum free. Don't you get it? Desire. It all has to do with desire. From the mid-torso? No, not that, not always that. Biologically, a large part of it. Filthy. Of the lowest, most ruthless primal kind. Involves back-biting and vertigo. Spin, spin, reel, crawl.  Fall? If you squeal. 

Speed burst. Sometimes, I feel I'm beyond how I express myself. That I'm not doing half-justice to the profound expanse that I am. Delusion? Oh, come on now. Words constitute the biggest limitation to my heartfelt enterprise. My weakness (my strength?). Words to express, but not enough, never enough. Or probably, I don't know enough techniques. Invisible, covert brushstrokes to spice up my canvas. Knowledge? Depends on what I'm trying to say. Why? Simple logic. Study, imbibe, build and then, express. My voice is gestating. Let's give it some time. And space. Impatience can only result in a deadly miscarriage. Slow, slow. 

Ideas > people? If I separate the idea from the person, does it not render the person dispassionate, dull and utterly inhuman? But if I have to understand the idea, is separation not only important, but necessary? I'm too naive. I can only ask questions. Curiosity of the innocent. 

I don't quite see the end. Not in my short-term future world. Thank you.