Very Trite

I see here, A dirty room and a million things to do. But everything here is so undeniably limp. Memories crowd glimpses that try to move forward and just when you think you've broken through, pondering only results in the same. ...you could say it is warm. The kind of stuffiness that is stress disguised with dinky air-freshener. Sights beyond the window lure my gaze with darkness... with reality. Crisp air draws all I see here to question. For once, stark void challenges my perfectionism.