stillborn half-thoughts and fragmented words like shooting stars tracing hues of rainbows in the dark skies that envelop my mind and caress my brain with its silky feel like a blindfold that comes and goes taking my judgment along thus clouding my sight in this mixed manic state where I feel me disconnect but not wanting to and I contemplate the sky above me with its pretty colors so out of reach yet so compelling hence I cry in my black hole from desperate dissapointment watching all my progress disappear in drops of despair time and again forever.