Trapped in yer lone rant as a slave to the past - you've convinced yourself that only what's lost will last. We both know better, we all do really. Stagnance is the imprint of an existence collapsed in on itself. It is the mark of the beast. The beast is proof of defeat. Defeat is the verb attached to its very own negation, and the negation is itself an act of being. Non-being is the act of negating and so here we are again lost in the ether between mirrors. The ether is merely our own subjective perception of the boundaries separating bells and whistles from wet towels. All fabric dries because none of it has ever fully merged with water. It is the water, but the water is also the air. The air is then breathed into lungs super-saturated with carcinogens. Carcinogens are a curse, the flip-side of hallucinogens - those gifts granting the purest illusion giving rise to purpose in life, composing symphonies of deceit. Bleed the king of his throne, yer mind's loneliest post and ! drain the ghost of its defining qualities while formulating the variables that distinguish this equation's fronted securities in certainty, but don't overlook the chance to forgo the anchor drowning you in a bathroom sink's view of privacy, of dominance. Laugh at the jokes you make without realizing it's not me, but you that you hate. Just a one-person inside joke at its own expense. It isn't my history that leaves you incomplete. It wasn't a change in me that left you under the radar. It was your own
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