It's the be all, end all
of everything accumulated.
Tiny castles of sand are bogging me down.
down down
I'm falling asleep at the wheel.
These dust-covered piles are so unorganized.
My thought process is working on previously viewed cache, hey, and I can't decipher between right and left, up and down, and up and down.
This spinning sensation is making me nauseous.
My head is so full that I can't hold it up.
Straight is the line that I'd like to walk.
And I miss my comfortable home.