grasping

the nettle of stuttering routine and the draining emphasis on placing work at the centre of the stinging clock...on days like this, where all appears as a buzzing background of white noise, streets pass unnoticed, faces vague and alien upon the production line, transient measurements for the statistical moment, a subterfuge of definition ill defined and empty ... outwith my bubble headlines appear in bold type offering 57 varieties of threat to maintain imbalance, to continue the eternal game of smoke and mirrors..."makes you want to turn right over to the tv page..."