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with regard toward nothing.

my fate is locked in tightly with yours, but the avenues for release from the present state are terribly limited. the understanding defies the reason, and the reasons defy the proper logic out of the chaos. ordered thoughts might seem the perilous undertaking. ‘Nixon Void’ beckons from the dark dead subconscious of archetypes unborn. a string of letters and symbols that conceptualize into empty anti-growth. a nihilist is breathed into life, and yet, wants that breath taken back to wherever it came from. spite and despair bring this “thing” to us, and we all have to face our demons down the barrel of a gun, an image that denotes our futile narrowed vision. we are lead around by the bells, ringing to create unendurable confusion, and we meet the intense things that be. overtaken by the bullets of implied notions, penetrated by the sheer force and impact of their meanings, and certainly made to think the worst right from the start. we are the keening siren wailing in the dark for help. the fettered mind eats away at devastating concepts that seem to need no introductions to defy the status quo. let me sever your chained thought structure, allow me to improve your capacity for abstract ideas, but most of all, allow me the honor of seeing your soul.