Sometimes

Sometimes there just isn't anything left to write, as if every word got lost on its way out. Sometimes the word "sometimes" is all I can manage to think. Sometimes...
Sometimes I go on long walks in order to step out of my worries. It works, sometimes. Sometimes...
Sometimes I can't stand to be alone and my brain scares itself with thoughts that look like infections. Sometimes I have to be alone in order to plug teh wires back in. Sometimes...
Sometimes I like apples. And yes, sometimes I like pears, too. None of this matters, however, because sometimes all there is is some time(time being a concept that is not really there) and what I do with it is what's important. Sometimes. Sometimes not.
Sometimes I think I'm hollow and made of papier mache, but as far as I can tell, no one else sees me that way. Sometimes I recline on other people's opinions and put my feet up on their convictions. Sometimes every word is trash. Yes, sometimes...Sometimes every word is trash.