Negative Supposition

There comes a time your brain just says, you know what?
fuck you.
fuck you system, fuck you people, fuck you everyone and fuck yourself everything.
I'm gonna go right ahead with this and do what feels good.
So what if I did at one point hold the contention that somewhere I wasn't being fair, I'm not doing good.
And what am i supposed to think of it as then?
a preoccupation?
a flavouring?
a bonus?
a mistake?
And how , just how am i supposed to sit in there and swallow all this new information, and disallow the directon unto which my underlying thoughts do but crawl, in there merest existance protruding way beyond the artful yet entuned beat of a pat?

but lets not be Poesk about it, she thought.

Sigh..Honest,
the place...or the time in my life,
somewhere the colour isnt matching,
but it is always the imperfections that become our obsessions,
if not atleast that which entralls us to them,
atleast somewhere...

anyway, a redolent shower awaits me.