Fucking Useless..

Fruitless, my steel trap mind has rusted.

I trusted the pen that vents my anger.

Sanity in danger, I appeal to a stranger in the dark.

Stark lying there, writers block.

The clock ticks talk as I walk, and stalk, and stumble.

Another fumble.

Jumbled words curb exposure - I'm a poser.

The key to my strife is shrouded, cause I've clouded the issue again..

It seems that the mind Isnt mightier than the pen.

Planned Obsolescence is a super rad phrase for a really bad idea..