It starts with a single cable.
Just one.
The gateway drug to entropy.
Soon, the floor is littered with tangled wires,
each one whispering promises of connection,
while conspiring in knots that defy mortal logic.
Much like my thoughts.
Spilled.
Scrambled.
Overcooked spaghetti.
To ride, or not to ride —
the question dangles like a frayed cord.
Stay on autopilot,
let the day fade in a tangle of its own making,
or seize the handlebars,
cut through the static,
and trade cables for open road.
Either way…
something’s getting unraveled today.
True stories bent just enough to be unbelievable. Reality, fiction, and the space between. Told one day at a time.
— QBALL45
