Snot Sniffer, I hate you.
I hate sitting nex to you.
Why do you choose to keep the snot inside of your head by sniffing it back up?
Why don't you get up and grab a tissue so, I don't have to listen to you.
I'm sick and tired of hearing you every five seconds, with your nose and your snot
Your snot and your nose.
Why can't you blow it and make yourself happy?
and better yet, relieve me from listening to you...
Its like the guy or gal that chews like a loud cow
I hate you just as much as snot sniffer.
I hate you Snot Sniffer go and marry Chews Loud and die
In your Overwhelming Abundence of Auditory ****.

Oh, how great the benefits of a good book;
How it eases stress and clears tour head
Whether it be on a beach or hammock,
Or at night in a bed
And then there's the genres the abundence of genres
Fantasies and fictions galore
Novels, and novels, and novels, oh how many novels,
I can only dream of having more
Then theirs the our favorites, the tear jerkers, laugh producers,
And heart warmers, we cannot read without
We read, and reread, and give to our friend
Yet if not given back, cry, scram, and shout
No Matt the genre, romance or fiction or any other kind
Happiness from a book I will constantly find.

So beautifully untrue as my reactionany state is documented for the endless see saw. I stare back into the void for a more recent dose of reality at the speed of creation.  
Ambition is just another of the auxiliary emotions that fuel this post moment mentality.  **** energy cache that drive human innovation simply for the simplified reason because a jazz drum beats obscurity. Trying to hash out a plan in the observer's nest... Where all the new futility is being beaten into a push for life once again... So often we forget what were really living for in the transfer of notion through physical.   Empirical evidence is needed.  But then alas a solution for fruition. I will make a choice of conviction and through myself into the void and give purpose to action on an elementary way. A marksmans circle of perception steams up in the machinery of the greatest question that will just never make sense in the abstract area of consciousness.
Theres many many things i would like to fix or hoist into the arena of
public opinion. The high court of the land that cast final judgement tabloid contraptures a device so absurd in nature it immediately is stamped valid and passed
I retreat as those word create these paradoxical platforms that make me the version of me i know right now
That acts as governing official of the redundant office as the very unfortunate state the one who am i in the dawning man you have become. Im constantly searching indeed ive had to make the motif of intent a kind of burn after reading
To find yourself in the obscurity of the void.  That which all must navigate. Like a star map made attractive to others lost in the records of human recall. The question with the answer absurd but wait these words feel too real when theres nothing else to say at all. The end all to end all to appear. You just push on til the day that you dont. I cant give any other resonance of the day where the atoms chain out into the sun. Where the last stand of its death will occur and no trace of the ones who walk tall, lost in the tall brush of conscious relating parades. Some men called by names by former to resolute the sound of surrender. A trumput sounding nobel as distinction in the throes of the mighty but this is humanitys mysterious capsule of illusion stuck deep in the throes parting passions like a truth that can be pass in illusions, hung in the halls the service corridor that leads into palace of permanence. The transitory place oh man sit down another thing again. Stop now follow sounds that make you feel the wave of the infinite loom the place at the end where theres a room to the place where all commiserate. So another stretch of time passed and abundence...