catfish (Trichomycterus)

this surreal marketplace - this sounding board of complex and cruel persona constantly devouring digesting and then regurgitating our fragmented soul stuff into documents , programs and interfaces, I'll send you mine if you send me yours - this dark hope that our fingers may type us a way OUT of these little cells we inhabit, our eyes wrinkling like fingers in a tub from to much exposure to these back lit screens, our windows of hope and addiction, of necessity and longing, OUT and into a tangible world of meaning and purpose - If only I could find someone to share My Version of the cell with, then maybe I could rest in the midst of all this madness , this clatter Buzz, this ego maniacal fearful hole that I / we have inherited - didn't ask for - wish were other than it is, but have so little power over to change. Why cant we? Why cant we? why cant we? I think I can i think I can i think I can!