Intriguing and seductive, I could wander through these cool pale shades all night. I would if I could, but the church bell tolls and reminds me of my duties. Duties I shan't fulfill of course, but am paving hell with good intentions my dear Jane.
Quixotic. Not that hard to pronounce, though if spoken in colloquial conversation one is in danger of the intellectual snobbery partially to blame for the widespread political apathy of which I despair.
Not despairing; strangely enough, staying afloat despite the storms. With no paddle beside me, no fluorescent orange bands it must be the salty brine that keeps me afloat, though at times the bitter taste I cannot stomach. Man's excrement, sewage gushing into the ocean with potent wretchedness; symbolic.
Random; a rather fabulous word, applicable in a variety of social situations for inarticulate. Rather like fuck, but minus the shock value.
Of course that is if it has any.
Bastard silence, I cannot hear myself think. Cannot think of an artist who has not drawn a blank. Fear of mediocrity. Envisage mediocrity.

I wilt.