The beltway will melt away my heart if I let it, or if I set it in motion without a goal as to devotion.  Once it is written it is done.  Capitalized, underlined, neutralized, undermined.  No more within the recesses of the subconscious.  Plaguing the mindset of ambivalence until it too screams in the dark.  Using a raspberry sucker to stir a drink with a decent amount of rum.  The sum of the days events do not warrant the cost upon my soul in everlasting wear and tear.  This writing scares me into being awake when I thought I was two minutes away from dropping off and dropping out.  Netflix documentaries flitter and flutter across my eyes with open shutters trying to soak in the research and development of minds more creative than mine.  My lack of R.E.M. sleep has detereorated my creativity.  The synapses are not firing as crisply as they used to.  I try to develop my brain in such a way that others cannot continue to cause me pain.  However, the heart finds ways to feel frustrated that often exceed previous imagination.  Full belly.  Empty mind.  Calm hands.  Calm body.  Tired eyes.  Suspect spirit.  Good intentions.  Bad planning.  Spontaneous eruption.  Sad delivery.  Happy stance.  Happenstance.  Sitting on the lock of dismay.  Wasting time.