Mellow living doesn’t make great art.

Blah blah, boring.

Where’s the heart rush 

and where’s the heartbreak?

My greatest pleasure is also my life’s curse.

I live to feel,

but for some reason,

I only feel extremes.

Swing high, swing low,

what’s with this mediocre bullshit lately?

It doesn’t move me at all.

Either set me soaring or let me fall.

I hate the in-between.

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