Circular

Quiet - it comes.

Silent - it goes.

In between there happens things that none 

may ever know.

Words that echo through a cranium too jam-packed with

bullshit to have space for much else, but the least one can

do is try.

Too many people spewing their brains out for the world to

wonder at, too many brains spewing their knowledge out for the 

universe to laugh at, but you already know all of this already - don't you?

The ever-conscientious, ever-ready, ideal of an individual not yet recognized 

(by choice, of course) fully prepared to salvage the last quavering droplet of 

humanity that hangs down by the drainage grate like a string of spittle that

knows no master besides the inevitable gravity - that I guess, supposedly, 

exists whether we like it or not; it's all the funniest game in the world and 

we are always searching for more players.