The feel of the world i thought i knew has become slippery. I am slipping on the idea of its gravitational pull. Help? I wont bother asking, i cannot ask anymore, it has become all wasted we'll live in this oasis, that still takes my thoughts through the ringers and back. Through the ringers again, i am feeling a little consequential. Dont catch me, i am falling, at a significant rate i cannot see myself. There is a pull, a metaphoric pull that has me slowly slipping into a knife and fork platter of battering the roll ups and roll downs of change, the hand of the clock is killing me. Killing me, listen closely you can hear the silent lavender laughs of it's tick tick tok.