In summer,the song sings itself.

THE LORD IS TESTING ME

Now I’ll never forget what goes in a fucking flower.

"Which is better - to be born stupid into an intelligent society or intelligent into an insane one?"

She had words,tangled and bundled,dangling against the gravity from her moss-like threads of thoughts, in her head. Words were there, accompanied with stolid phrases,ink-mottled letters with quivering meanings. They were there,etched against her tender,flaccid muscles like motionless, ancient drawings on cave walls. Carved in for life.

However she has the abysmal capability of stringing these abstract creatures together,to actually arrange those words in sync to make sense, or rather to convey something. To breathe life into it. But each word was a fidgeting creature, incompetent of standing in a line. So let alone bringing life to them.

The burden in her cranium is relentlessly mounting, with no absolute way of getting out. Every input requires an output,that is how everything is in equilibrium. If this delicate equipoise is maladjusted, all hells break loose. But either way, she was fighting a war against herself deep inside.

She looked at the static,silent sky for a ray of inspiration, before these precious words vapourize into whimsical clouds of nothingness. But her brain is operating as a separate entity, as if to jeopardize her salubriousness of her mind and thought factory.

She consoled herself into a niche in her room, a corner in mind,attempting to retrieve memories of her glorious age of writing. Her veins were laced with blood and words,streaming through the vessels a million times a day. How could she have lost something so fundamental, something that defined her embodiment? She frantically swam through the waters of memories,waddled and drenched in the moist of swamped past,in search of any possible way of revival. Any way of resuscitation of her feeble self.

Lost,the gibberish in her head rise to a periling height, one that could even drown her alive. Her pocketwatch-like heart ticked slowly,surrendering to the opposing force, with the gleaming chain spreading-like tendrils of the blood chamber, on the verge of irreparable rupture.

But the murky water around her is slowly receding in its wake,as if the earth is peculiarly swathed with a sudden thirst thus imbibing it. She suddenly felt new waves of emotions-curiosity and wonder,something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something started to gather in her mind,she couldn’t deduce the happening.

The carvings on the walls of the cave are coming back to life.

Suddenly, I found solace in words.

"Human beings have a demonstrated talent for self-deception when their emotions are stirred."