The Truth is Always Just Another Dirty Lie

Writing. Putting into literature my incoherent thoughts. Hopeful dreaming and profound wishes. A silent death in the industry. From clouded background whispers to freshly ink-pressed pages, spun on the intricate web of society. Who will accept it? Robots that swallow down your words and bounce to the rhythm as the lawyers chew up their precious cotton dollars. Maybe the minds can't comprehend as they bite their coffee-stained fingernails, anticipating that phone call. To the core of my soul I am sickened by their ignorance. And I can name one person who knew exactly what I mean long before I did.