Looking at the world below me
Stretching neath my feet
...
Though bitter life will often rend,
And tears fall from thine eyes.
...
I have lost my touch for poetry.
I've lost my taste for food.
...
The setting, a room with a million desks.
My tone is unstable and likely to change.
My view of the point be as straight as a razor,
But themes and motifs I find ackward and strange.
...