a rage in thought.
this is water many men fear to tread, late at night in their beds, drifting to sleep with the dead…
this is water many men fear to tread, late at night in their beds, drifting to sleep with the dead…
a warped reflective chancre that persuades the dim view darker, some individuals worth mentioning because of their endearing compassion, however, I don’t happen to work with any of those people right now.
out of Context;
‘you are all lunatics perverted by the lack of real control that I might seem capable to sustain…’
my worst traits are always out in the open for others to take witness to, and the flakier the better to distract the thoughtful to a crisper crust level, undoing all prior notion to build something from the ground up.
out of Context;
‘topics through the mind meat, somewhere deep that can never be touched by human hands, but torn apart with a simple command…we might have the impossible journey stillborn in our hands, but, goddamn-it!!!, we are good people…yet, where is this fascinating syndrome i have come to feel?…’
indecision abounds, and I can’t clear the ol’ noggin, friends… gaps in time lead me to be less than fruitful, and I can’t help but classify myself in these retarded constraints, even when I know I am not that terrible… Just uncomfortably lazy…
I grow wistful, but it really appears as nostalgia incognito, the hidden sentiment…
out of Context;
‘the reason for the title of this post is because I am taking showers later at night to insure that I can wake up and leave much quicker, but the results are vague at best as yet…’