back to square one early doors the milkman cometh my war against sleep wages on I’m sick again wretched with it my mind is in meltdown there’s no silence left not with the newsflash the commercial breaks and incessant chattering idiocy of the internet there’s little sense to the information age we’re in it for the money we murdered god and filled the void with primetime cheesecake this culture is universally flaccid a succession of fragmented sensation and random nostalgia I’m sickened of it I overdosed on signification I’m puking my guts up on the swirl of empty meaning back to square one early doors the milkman cometh…
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