Lying on the floor with a piece of shit arm, wondering what is the purpose of a blog that never gets read? The ol' tree in the forest and one hand scenario on my laptop or just my fragility needing? Needing validity. Waiting for epiphanies to pour in as comments as well as posts. Plug up the slow leak in my soul as I feel it ooze in conversations when I am able to say less and less. I expect to find parts of me in the shower, washed away, clogging the drain. All I see are tangles of hair. I am tangled. This net is a dumping ground for the naked body and the stripped searched mind. I just never thought thoughts were waste.