dirty crowdsourced topicality in the face of wantonly and abject dereliction of the idea factory presents unique opportunities for the playful construction of words in an order such that once spake might elucidate some retrospective meaning like some backward journey through time that begins at the end with the ripped out pages of the book yet to be written and ends with the realisation that many this way tread upon the atrophied pathways that for a generation as yet unaware of the passage of themselves are the very trails of their own existence mapping the life stories of the millennium across a landscape of indifference which in its own way is a bit like facebook innit.
for we render our own paths across this landscape leaving the tiniest most significant pieces of ourselves as dust upon the earth that dances and dies with every footstep that disturbs the peaceful equilibrium while the future self declines linkedin invitations from our own reflection in the broken windows of house parties in clapham where we drift into a haze of tomorrows as the bongos of iniquity are drummed in our ears by the flat palms of forever.
looking forward is much the same as looking back. except its the other way around. but that depends on how you've described yourself and whether your description is meaningful to me, because, after all, here I am, right beside you. as far as I can see, we're both as entropied as each other. it's just that I'm a bit taller, so I have further to go. if we leave together, we might just make it.