HereisThis-> <-HereisThat

Pushing, trudging, through thick stillness of page, moving nothingness aside and replacing it with pure determination; charging blindly forward into emptiness, leaving behind only This and only That. The sweetness of a page that drips (with pure Idea), saturated with haha-loneliness. It can't be stopped (yeah right), you know, once it's started. It's like a snowball, tumbling through the white snow. Words roll across the page gathering mass as they run. The mind creates the hills, the turns, smearing thick Vision across the inside of your eyes and mine. In the end, though, it's always the same: An abrupt end: sweet empty (