the trickling...

the trickling of the musical notes are expounding on my mind the past creative impulses and influences of modernity. the end becomes the beginning and the inevitable loop ensues as there is a constant becoming with no name. words being mere words and lacking the depth of perspective or mute definition of absolute reality. the spiral spins in and out, up and down. no details, only mind garble (or jarble), though apparently spell check says that's not a word. the song changes.

i'm five years old and playing a video game with which I don't entirely understand. I frustratingly resume time and time again. Time passes and now I'm too old to return to something with which I don't remember. It rains more than it used to.