#@@§$$^~,, ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, Now, Usually I Feel Good (Maybe?), But ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, This Time Of Confusion Also Leads To ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, All Analyzes Ending In "Useless" - I ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, Was Being Bothered By Something In A ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, Song Or Movie Or Book, So I Think, How ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, Would I Have Done It, What Is The ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, Purpose Of This Process, What Does It ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, Consist Of...? And Through The Process ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, More And More Pieces Falls Off Until ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, I'M Standing There With Nothing. ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, Reductionist Hell - ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, I Wan'T A Bottom Floor, A Concept ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, Bedrock, But The Deeper I Go The More ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, Abstract They Are, The Things, Until ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, They Cease To Be Things At All ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, Are We Just Stacked Triangles? There Is ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, Nothing I Can Do With Triangles. They ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, Can Not Shelter Me In Any Meaningful ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, Sense. ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, And When I Can'T Even Anchor Myself, ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, When I Am Nothing But The Question, It ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, Feels Like It Can All Slip Through My ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, Fingers... "Whoops", And Nothing Ever ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, Was After That. ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@
@§$$^~,,,, ,,,,~^$$§@
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@
#@@§$$^~,, ,,~^$$§@@#
@@§$$^~,,, ,,,~^$$§@@