Lost in translation of time/space transition from resting position to emotional commotion, perpetual loco motive that’s cycling the seasons of single-sided tension going 60 thoughts per second. Levy the weight, make distance to bury the hate, take this chance to vary the fate and pace and go about your own chosen way. Now, hope that maybe one day you’ll walk away with a smirk. How? Hold back the waterworks with whatever that will work.
A single moment of epiphany will last for you an eternity, when the cartography of the lonely psyche of humanity is explored by the pioneers to the depths of its depravity, but even the brightest will falter standing witness to the calamity. Oh the face of tr...