Diagrams and pointless routine

The clairvoyance of sorts, that leads down this path of forgottenness.
Jump in, follow in suit, you only know the page that needs to be read, alas, not the words that need to be heard.
The structure that would lead to the path, to the way to follow, inscribed in blue paper, rebelled and destroyed itself.
For consciousness of honor lost, so should the ashamed be forgiven.
It matters not.
If the sense were indeed left for the sentence, the sentence would gladly be left to be read, but with no one to know where to find it, the words have lost the meaning and the pain is strong and unmourned.
I would call for qualms of balance and temperance, for still rhythm and logging passage, to follow, to be on the way, for once lost, we know not how to reclaim.
Wake up.
Arise.
Get ready.
Eat.
Leave.
Enter.
Clock in.
Eat.
Clock out.
Return.
Ride for self-destruction.
Shall it sit in dismay? Reclaim to revive or simply follow the same path, the same pathetic excuses, the unwillingness to re-access the situation…
Wake, sleep, repeat, repeat, repeat.
Then should it be sent to the drawing board or the butchers board?
Should the plan be denied and defiled, forgotten, lost in arms and has simply non-existent, toss and turn, revolve and revolt.
If you cry for the words, the worlds won’t understand the writings.

It’s all rather pointless, obtuse and imbecile.