tipping point

I had been writing stoically lately and I am filled to the brim with desire to write the most nonsensical, unscientific, grammatically incorrect words I could possibly muster with my fingers...

Inebriated with the compounded infinitesimal sparks of the mundane hurly burly like the grass is so green but the sudden gusts of wind ruin my grin and smelling the flowers is probably a bad idea especially since pollen can be captured by the sputum of my postnasal drip and the guttural pleading of my silent intermittent exhalation is the impetus for my eyes to shut whereby a mascara-hardened eyelash provokes the sclerotic coat of my optic senses which then causes a sudden singing in my head by Bono: "everybody huuuurts sometimes..." Light up a match, turn on your pen light, lift up your mobile phone and wave it like you're in the middle of a random mosh pit at a concert you were dragged into going because all you really wanted was to be beneath a disheveled pile of fluffy pillows and a nice smelling comforter with earplugs

*haaah*

U2 didn't write Everybody Hurts---geez