Where does it come from and where does it go to?

Why does it linger and why does it come? I forget to understand how awful it feels to feel a pang of complete dullness. Sometimes nothing is enough. What means just doesn't mean. Or doesn't matter. The tipping point is so close to the exhaustive button, as though they were placed together with no gaps almost.

I feel like a really thin needle or an unwanted fruit. I feel like a savage, a hut creature of the huts.

I could get a hold of a coconut right about now and throw it around.

I feel closer to the ground nowhere, everyday the essence of stuff becomes more and more artificial, like people forget collectively what being natural means. Because no one knows what it's like to live close to the ground. More and more there is this inhumane. Like monkeys that can't peel a banana because they just got too good at drinking Up & Go, Banana Flavour.

Excuse me sir and you and everyone, fuck your complete lack of common sense. I'm trying to preserve something which I forget the shape of.