#1
The closest a sane man can come to insanity is within a mirror.

The following pieces are all original compositions with rights reserved to the artist (myself) and have been compiled over the past few years and are presented in no particular order. Any resemblance or likeness to published works by other artists is of unintentional coincidence or homage and not in any sense an attempt in plagiarism. The language used hereinafter is of artistic content and thus adult themed material can be expected, reader discretion is advised.

Please enjoy. Any attempts of interpretation are merely theoretical in nature and in no way depict the message/moral/theme/etc. unless otherwise stated. The structure and typography may present errors in comprehension and are inevitable occurrences or intentional choices.


Without further ado, we'll begin somewhere before the end.

Animal/Cannibal:
Savage is the sentence I unleash

Tangible money?
Animalistic...
Understandably?
Hella realistic...
Mandible fandom
cant tell a dull,
transcendentally,
accidental,
canna-bully,
cannibal,
ballistic,
business,
whizz-kid...
from a
suddenly
stranded,
incidentally
trangender,
Blissfully
ignorant,
thizz-bitch.
Although It's
rather obvious...

/Ob-vi-ous-ly/

Dude's got some paper
and the girl's got zen,
but the paper
is used for tradin'
With the chick
For what she
Won't admit
she's constantly in
a cravin'
for...

His dick...

Savage is
the sentences
I'm submittin'.
My wisdom is
momentous when
I'm spittin'
my shit, bitch.
A terroristic fetishist.
Check the latest edition.
A Sick dick, trick resistin',
lyricist kiddo
With NO
BEliefs.
and NO
RElief.
But, Djoe,
You may call me.
Can't tell if its
intelligible
but until i hear "no."
or feel it again,
or begin hearin' it in
the tongues
of The Beastly
I'll continue
to scribble
my mind on
something
that reminds me
of the proverbial
and kingly "we".
You tryin' to tame me!?
You can't contain shit, Bro.
The illegitimate swill
will get what's meant
for them, at the very least.
I wouldn't really worry.
Selling idioms for a
rather steep price,
which is less than nothing
minus "of mice and"
the minutes
before you're
on ice.
Pleased to seize it,
the fees, for the weakest.
The powers that be
seek to teach us
that we are all leeches,
guaranteed to defeat
the believed in and preached.
The breezes will bring us
the fetus to defeat this
contemptuous, lead beast.
So try to be bliss,
for this might as well be it.
We've been enlisted
to drop all defenses
and lead this blitz
into their trenches.
To be content with it
is to be convinced in
the intent to do business
without consesus
for your contentious
inconsistencies.
Incredulous lies cower from tempestuous eyes.
Don't you know us?

No?

Came into the darkness
between demonized thighs,
bred a monster
with a strange sharkness to it
and let it ****ing die.
So...
Reading us
the preamble
to your shambles of
a manifesto,
only furthers
to scramble
our cleanly
rambles
to a cluster
of **** all
trampled
by a collegiate
of Mandelbrot
Fractals...

It's all the same sounds
rearranged on new grounds.
Folding in on itself
the dimensions
of a new found
suspicion
to disbelieve.

So I dropped the "Cottontail"
To avoid a hell
and became a
rabbit again
with the intention
Lettin' it in.

The old name always seemed to suit me better, anyways
(as they say)
To lay cold blame never bruised me cheddar, in all my days
(Still got paid) [is what I'm sayin']
To remain bold in the face of danger, and not to fake majorly
(is the cray)
But to stay folded in one place, with strangers dangerously
(is the day...)

You die.

So please, oh please,
try to seize the me (in the now)
and mine eyes (idled low)
So you know I'm real
and not thine lies (tried but slow)
told to you from the virtualized,
interpreted sights (Obviously foes)
of the cybercistic, asbestos
committee.
(Otherwise known)

[ as Facebook ]


Yo,
Yo,
Your ego has inflated
and im not talking
about your dick.
As
doors
swing
open,
we go the fastest
route; Around ALL
this shit .
The past is an estate
handed down to me
day by day.
We've been irate
and stranded at sea.

Though...
We still, somehow, make
our way persistently free
through this desert,
which I mistakenly
always thought was water.
Deserted by our
own faulty faith
in this unpredictable
weather.
Which should,
by all means,
be the last thing
we concern
ourselves over.

Nonetheless...
Converted to believing
the metereologist
actually makes things
a little better.
(By feet or by fist)
Remember?
The news was here before you
and they know what's best for you. (True?)

Duh.

Turn on, tune in and drop out.
Burn long, do sin and smoke dope.
For the behavior that could potentially
make you a greater Individual
(indispensable)
intentionally making lives better
is not inevitably always answered.
(With no.)
And for that matter,
living unconditionally,
(on a whole)
comes from within me
and not from withholding
my dreams...
aside from the water...
the food and the wind.
Awe, **** it!!!
Who knows?
Perhaps it
is just a BIT
better...
To farm it!
That cheddar!
As if happier cows could not possibly do it better!
Just eat your government sponsored dinner...

[it'll be fine]

OR!

Bust out of this corporate,
operated mind-bender
and thrust this ordinance,
detonated, back to sender.
Nothing can feel much better
than restoring the rights
of the independent,
beautiful creature
that is this
terrestrial feature
we so duly noted as;

"MANKIND"

Addendum and Addendumber
I can utilize
my lexicon
Like a nuclear
strike at
DefCon 1
I'll continue to
Drop bombs
By the form
of my tongue.
And the shape
Of my jaw will
determine
The rate which
you fall.
**** Filipino people
Suck my lip don't creep
All
High?
Way!
Ninety-nine
Die?
Nay.
Not tonight.

Pleased to seize it The fees of the weakest Ill at ease treasons Led by experteasers Enjoy the breezes Of the seven seases The pleasers of the guaranteasers the four seasons are the ****in teasers So believe us when we breed us the fetus To defeat this competed delete fest- If is me kiss this it is thee Christmas So come and be bliss i breathe my hit list be beat by quickness, contend to see his Non-con SEEquences Drop bomb defenses Seal your senses feel the blitz is in the trenches Sit on fences To be content with this is To be now lent his intent with Your sent in senses is contemptuous And I meant it

Enjoy the breeze
on the seven seas
ill at ease
with no expertise
Guarantees
a deep, true freeze
Pleas to seize
The fees of the weak



7 billion people
7 billion disorders.
Heaven's brilliance
and the steeple are much closer
than you and I.
7 billion sheeple
7 billion tortured.
Venomous resilience.
Villianous, vitriol-centric consistency.
We're writing a sequel,
And it's our closer
Then we'll succinctly die,
happily. Devilishly,
lethal reptilian posers.
Yosemite's legal chameleon borders
Leviathan's teeth and his
claws are your Apocalypse.
Kthulu eats your
contrived glances
and dances
on your grave.
He spake
to me
speechlesly
and left in my alleles
a minajeri,
ministry of mind
cleverly killed,
sinisterly.
Administer the cure,
already.
Collectively brilliant,
yet introverted.
Bereft of speedy subsistence
and meant
to love it.
Eventually, reality sets in
on all of us
and we realize our potentially insistent
need was seen
as a fondness
for apathy.
It's just the same shit all across the globe
Bow to me, kiss my feet adorn me with jewels and silk robes.


Whats grand is greater than sin and what was left behind in legend was borrowed from a yesteryear in hymns and softly sold bullshit Your guilt and memory was grown from a hemorrhagic magic in a winter heat and summer chilled spring chickens, jack may have one eye and a callous hide but the morrow is spry and your just a shy wiccan following the path of broken spins, the whirl was wound like a child's sound in the hereinafter please dont forget the wreathes and the dawn of your masters broken knees. Needs are one thing, but tye-dye is another, and your Glenda the good-witch is nothing but a never-ending itch in the biggest bang of them all. This background's radiation is just another bullet waiting to be bit. Hitler is one thing, but the truth is youre not a brother to any, but all. Your mother may have had two, but he's just a baseball struck by a bat outta hell and your tall, but the tale is taller. Believe nothing. This ring was bound before you were born. The darkside of the who? The what, when, why and where? Rather ask yourself, art for thou shalt break your brow, so bow and wrench your bow cut the strings and reap what you have sown. Fi! Fie! Fo! Fum!, your grandmother took your angel and replaced it with a thumb.
#2
CONTINUED

Uncurtained
Everything could be traced back to that afternoon downtown
A man in denim saw my struggling and paced towards my sounds
He asked me a simple question, my bag crumbling to the ground
Anything I can get was loudly pronounced from my high mouth
I regret every word I saw, spoke or heard that afternoon downtown
No one knows when their test will rear its head
sometimes in the distance of the resting tomorrow
your bed is much smaller than you think, I cant borrow another
the clouds come sooner in the evening

SEMANTIC
Life could be described or defined as a matter of energy behaving uniquely. Which leads me to believe that you and me, or I according to those defending language, in a sense may actually be worthy of what worth we essentially claim to be, at the very least as worthy as something or incredibly more likely a tally o. At times I feel a potential need or extreme desire to specify an ironically relevant and confident belief in the knowledge that the aforementioned worth more importantly applies directly to me because I recognize that every self-aware individual is pretending they are not individually feeling, more often than not controversially, an intense need to be free from the considerable capacity attempting to deconstruct reality has to incapacitate the beauty, nature and freedom of those who surround me. Inversely, as in unlike but not dislike, people who often agree or actually feel similarly or those unconciously claiming to know by pretending they want the same thing I admit my desire to be free and happy and truly understand what that means and always mean to avoid overstepping. Then by stating, "I know what Im saying!" intending to legitimately inflate my credibility while almost always incurring the exact opposite consequences due to the fact I'm often perceived to be or innacurately feel as if im seen as selfish or the least of what I am mean. I simply invoke a feeling when I'm speaking, in others or me that reasonably I could be seen as suffering from mental disability or as, consistently confident to a fault with unappealing qualities in personality. Gratefully, I feel I am actually less maliciously and hopefully misunderstood or unfortunately unhappy. Speaking with an identifiably contemptuous or pompous vocabulary leads most to a place where rhythm is not quantifiable, and rhyme becomes minimized behind comprehension difficulties. Either I think backwards or you aren't thinking forwards, and I know the answer or what could potentially be far more accurate than just "Something is wrong with you and/or me." Which i would not consider to be a statement of fact, but rather an apology. Although I could see it as a creation of fees. The concept concerning those fees, ironically, is often interpreted as, for life long principles, (Not in spite of my predefined knowledge but due to it) despite the smaller word that goes unnoticed. Knowingly... but I confront the reality that I cannot claim reality is even properly detectable or because I KNOW people can't know anything is REAL, not because you can't know ANYTHING obviously, but if there be a cause may it be at the least claiming to know or actually knowing what the actual word KNOW really means? So...
#3
Cream
Rising to the top, Sleep filled. Dream still, quiet bird. Sing till the earth turns. Sizing up your rival. The day is never over. Rome was never built. Tilted on its axis, this lover sweeps forever. Her shadow has seen brighter days. A shallow meadow in the suns rays. Come all ye made to. Aback all ye wicked. Thick is this blood. Thin is the oil. Burn it though, we will. Shrill is the fence. Till the soil, whence it comes from ash and dust. Lust aroused by secret suspense suspended upon a forgotten prince. The land is honed by an emerald bore, and in its core a storm is found. Rounded shores and edged seas inside a left and broken breeze. Sheets cover a lunging brother, stolid patriot, composed traitor, exposed maker. The salt is more sour than our power was showed to be. Shone was the queen. Alone we will always be. Kings.

IDIOde Transmissive
If we can't choose to be happy
Due to an inadequate vocabulary
Specifically fueled by
fermented ignorance
Deceptively, things begin
to seem far less complex...
Though inversely and honestly?
We could figure ourselves as literally dead,.
As in analogous to analysis
like comparing analogy and metaphor
To science and progress,
or an access to our excessive tendencies.
You're told to ignore that same difference prescribed
For slim to none or next to nothing experiences.
A frustrating inability of and for expression.
Especially when finding that self in a feedback loop;
Constantly constructing incoherent phrases
To insufficiently make an attempt to explain
The aforementioned sensation.
Abandon thine hope,
All ye who exit this place
Flattery takes a page from closed books
Feet of clay carry a wide weight
close the floodgates.
The act of the matter was
half baked golden handshakes.
Go play second fiddle while Rome is away,
Thither it burns the midday oil.
Through thick and blood thinner than water
by above board and by nail pick up the gauntlet
Thirsty for hammers between two bar stools
Pigs may fly to avoid a place in the sun like the plague.
A play off words, not enough on my plate
Play your cards right, hold your tune
and soon the naked truth
will pick your brain in eloquent silence
making ends meet the enemy within
empty vessels double-thinking
the beneficiary of the doubt leads
a dead horse to still water
Still kicking it
then buys him a drink
As a victim of circumstance turns face
Like borrowing candy from an ugly baby.
Duckling, sorry.
Or a sitting duck...
maybe, making glue from fish in a barrel?
Glue from a show horse?
There's more than one way to skin a turnip
And get blood from it.
Wait, a cat...?
A Dog?
A person place or thing?
What is this? 20 questions?
Well, I can't handle it.
I'm no longer sure of my own spit... aphorismystic.

Table It
I step into this crowded space
A time when books are judged by face
And cover if found, is between the pages
The lines are bound by leather. The words come in stages.
The waves are immense, sound escapes the void.
Darkness is vague. Silence made the noises.
No choices, reach high. Your voice is your life.
Nature is strife. Creation cuts like a dull knife.
The wound is wrong. The nots are tied.
Notes are lies. And fantasy never dies.
Falsehood is fact. And Truth, a fiction.
The soothing friction of rhythm are watching eyes.
Spying for tomorrow, begging to borrow.

The Contradictator
As a result of apathy, addictive convenience or more aptly, disastrous cognitive atrophy, stoked by an oblivious catastrophe. Exhibiting a vindictive contention while visually picturing entropy within imagery, intention or indicative "Figures" of speech. Real life may be an intrusive or exhaustive constriction of values, obligatory in nature. An intrinsically stacked wager against infinitive odds. Even verses betting on betterment between bringing belief. By means of having been begotten with or otherwise being forgotten. Forgiveness is for the weak. Anti-grace is hating the meak, inheriting the earth in the wake of their being for the sake of made grief. Meaning is illusive, fleeting. Abusive I'm bereft of it. Selflessness is beneath us. Rightfully so.

ME
vs.

the increasingly
difficult maneuverability
required to achieve
a velocity of verbosity
proportionate to the
Comprehensive qualities
ascribed from here on out
to whomever i may speak.
I will often windup
and find myself directly steering
crystal-clearly into dead horses
Amidst eggshells and forces
believed to be a part of me.
In some words or others,
far too dense and illicit...

Expensive whether irrationally or otherwise, while I work words seemingly defensive. Tiles laid simultaneously defeating that preliminary contention within the tension of the moment, I intend in action, theory AND practice. I am as diametrically opposed to pretense, or for that matter existing in essence anywhere but the present, and thus behavior to the according. To plan bring pretended silhouettes. Intention (intention in action effectively defeats the purpose of pretension, in those "other" terms pretending means your "fake") And for the love of [insert blaspheme, expletive, curse, swear or prayer] Erect your multisyllabic apartment complexes constructed of fundamentally elementary particles of speech or contradictators future participles of breaching siege weaponry upon kingdom O.C.D.
#4
Please forgive the following verses, for it was conceived during an extremely stressful time in my life and is more an exhibit of a man on the brink of insanity as opposed to a coherent song or poem.

Litter Rally:
New Row/Talk Sick


Commas are evil,
Everything you like is down
World is winning or wanting real life AND death.
When making a choice if when what you choose I feel is your voice is real or you I choose to say is in what I am I know i feel IS real.

LITERALLY
By me

They got us thinking too early. Snap out of it. Thinking is mind control, not bad but fact.

Definitions:
A is first.
I AM or I CAN DEFINE YOU.
I AM or I CAN DEFINE ME.

Don't try to understand me. Understanding is thinking you can know doing or, but keep saying and. Overstep, go higher or realize everything is if it is what it is.

You CAN be alive for ever. If Lying if liking without ever knowing or for example hearing the sounds liking without no lying with no yes only not being but lying yes is bad but will not you make dead.

Undefine everything to be enlightened or TO FEEL that everything is fine. Refine and create ego, as in Everything IS GOOD. AS IN wanting and not or so be sure to be careful if you forget who you are. Ego is not self, ego is everything good or. The symbol is Q like star trek, he's curious inquisitive always asking or wanting safety in knowing. If It is the dream killer or not or every answer or your ego for dream or wanting what you do and if knowing what man can think without knowing can kill you ... Undefine it is.

Fine is admitting fun is and everything.
But just like cake 'seeing you know everything'
You can't have it and eat it too.

GOD

An ACT if me is wanting to see and think. FACT is for fun, get or like forcing seeing and thinking for get, for like that you do it. FACTS are yours not ours and if forcing for you I fail you fail as in not feeling you want for like.

//
Which is funny considering you'd say 'not literally', because of the fact. You do not understand the letters nor the sounds. Which controls your entire life. Which im not talking about the title im talking about the /actual/ WORD *which*, i know it frames your reference in 'trying to pick' or the other... 'and'. It's very simple if you see the letters, which is Wanting and Having what I Think I Can or Cant". Want and have cannot coexist, they are obviously opposites. JUST **** and SEE IT.
//

****- fun in seeing you KNOW
FU- C- K.

I don't care about you, means more than you think. It's actually nice to be respected. I don't want what you want because you COULD think. I definitely don't like when you say I SHOULD see. Shoulding and coulding, are like seeing and believing. Just try to say OR not maybe who knows.

Realize you are free please?

Your name is "wanting and making everything". Your name is not bad. Remember O. No is not bad, and neither is N. A IS affirmative, as in I WANT that. Want isn't bad, but be careful for get. They are trying to make you. Bad isn't even bad, it's just believing in death.

Which IS NOT real like everything and nothing IS...
WHICH is real, because you can win in seeing you CAN have what you want, but nothing is forever and nothing is not.

J. O. E.
Joking OR Everything
Joking AND Everything.
That means joking and wanting to know everything. Not because I want, because I am. Learn your name. And saying, "I am" is not much more than, I man. And many is too. If i man is me, and me is everything. Man want yes. So I say I am, therefor I am. Cave man.

It's funny they teach people how to think, but literally nothing else. They teach people to READ there own minds and nothing else.

The REAL SENSES are not sight, smell, touch, taste... Those things are your spirit. Science is our collective sense of believing and trying to save yourself through thinking you see. There was an old saying that lead something like that, PEOPLE see MAN for GET not for LIKE.. Which is the fun of life. We are all eternal HEARING is sensing yourself and eternity. Hearing is seeing. Synesthesia for the soul, hearing is seeing what is real. Listening is to like what you hear and remember. Thinking is dangerous, seeing words in your head. Thinking is a sense of words. Thinking you know without knowing you believe. Knowing is a sense of feelings. Your feelings are your freedom wanting to be free. Wanting is a sense of naught. Not that naught IS, but doing for IT. And acting it IS. Wanting to believe is being an atheist. Believing is sensing you can. Knowing comes AFTER BELIEVING, but BEFORE THINKING "I am."

I know. I feel. I can. I want. I think.

I believe.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Or rather start from "I think" and forget you already believe. Beginning from belief is actually healthy. I believe I am real. I am and I know I can. I know I can want to... I CAN DO. You can too. But, do not for-like ever or for-get or pretend you know without thinking and think without "him". Believing is the fun of being in life and wanting to think that you will die. But it never ends if you do not let it. I have seen. HEARD. Came and conquered. I know i can feel LIKE, the sense that everything is RIGHT. I can for LIKE for GET. Know, I am. Be cause. Forgetting is your sense of goodness in life. And remember everything is real and i will live for EVER, your sense of eternity, but this time I FEEL LIKE I FOR GOT FOR GOOD. Your sense that it actually SHOULD. A sense that anything is possible.

Nobody knows how words work.
Nobody knows how to work words.
Maybe I should stop.
worD, wanting and doing
WorK, wanting and dying.
Or killing yourself, because there is no death.
Not as in you cannot die, but if you think you can eat forever in darkness seeing you believe is no long fun.
People call that place HELL. For get, for like. Do not for get you like.
And never apologize. That is why they say sin is real and you are forgiven. Like is LOVE hidden in sight. Because seeing is believe for GET not FOR LIKE.

If you haven't decided FOR is your sense of FORCE, but for get, for like and Create your life. There is no end, but this passage is different.

"Learn everything yourself and keep thinking you think. You can keep writing in our words. Feeling what we make you think instead of the other way around. And failing to see you think you feel, and not feeling you think."

BECAUSE YOU ARE SO SMART AREN'T YOU. Quit thinking you see as in "Question I think, I see." Those words are not good, but not bad because that is not. What is real can not I feel be the [acronym/initials] for I think, I see. There is one thing though that makes me feel real and that is the short of what I've been writing. An eye for an eye, is not quite right, but an eye for get and for fun is feeling [it is] as real as... the sound... IF. (I FEEL)
Ibanez RG7321- 7 string electric
Behringer GMX212
Sweet ass Behringer channel/effect foot switcher...


Quote by Inahrima
Kirk: you know what would be hardcore?
James: what?
Kirk: metallica nail polish!
James:
#5
Meta-Poetic
by Me.

Meta-poetically, I rhyme aesthetically alphabetic, in time my insanity will be anesthetized. Until then poetry self-knowingly combines delivering intermittently, an energetic dialectic, with electric energy from my mind turbines revitalized by identified, ingenious determination.

Nominalization in practically every word, incessantly. Not intending to minimalize the sentences... but, as you can see Im compulsively contending in rhythmic, but imaginary, incidents. My mental dominion is eidetic in decadence. This cognised euphonium is fleeting. I try to possess it by reaching.

Languages are composed of far-off, fewer sounds than initially predicted. To become aware is to be gifted a key which, in terms of what it may unlock, I can only assume will entrance me. As if on que, the proper words flutter listlessly in behind me, through a window I intentionally left open, and mostly without my assistance they perch upon this page.

The spoken word, even unheard or, for that matter written, exists on a continuum between the you and the me. At one end you; utility, and at the other, genuine expression; often accompanied by, brief but extreme, bouts of insanity.

Filter that delusion, dissolve into a solution, drink three times daily and surrender your integrity. Safety and security can, and will be what is, at the low, low price of forfeiting your wisdom. Stability is the elusive and tempting mistress in matrimony with blissful ignorance, but even still the cognitively tallest and willfully sentient will sway in the wind.

I'm sardonically homiletic like a long eulogy read to avoid death. I see significantly more statistics while we sleep. Why? Even as myself, which i am rarely; a synergistic yet sleepy anarchist, I can be seen on the event list hammered in granite. Empathetic, yet synthetic in sympathetically stating the expectedly charming, arduous is constructing this artifice, sorry.

Salaciously supressed by major mundanity as the precious precipice; upon which rests the dirge of this dreaded absurdist's insanity, begets it's weight, and splashes into the dead, dry lake and in its wake engratiatingly malevolent chemicals contaminate the soil.

A logically vocal though enclosed, paradoxically speaking motile bends rhetoric and finds itself deep. Embedded, and fast within contained yet haphazardly organized, or otherwise untidy psyches; eclectic letters medically administered intra-rhyme-ously, not with outstanding errors, may be considered the only effective step towards your recovery. Have you discovered the truth in being, exacerbation and consignment?

Hallucinations behind me, while I fear the forward sight as well. From what I can't tell directly, I perfectly perceived a thought timelessly sought in calculations concerning the nature of reality. Though it had not occurred to me, I didn't account for the episodic amnesia.

I'm rhapsodic through diabolically symphonic means. So simply relax and become, not literally catatonic; but symbolically. And allow this multisyllabic soliloquy to sooth, enrapture and free the demons inside thee, as well as the one writing... me.

As an ironically neurotic exotic I find myself robotic periodically, so please excuse me if things get melodically melancholic, suddenly quixotic or methodically caustic. I mean not to bring offense or seem stand-offish, but alas I have. So I wont hold it in any longer than this.

Logically, god is naught, despite philanthropic products and prophetic reciprocity, but if morally dictated, I drop my fists and raise this glass in comradery for the betterment of our entire species. Though obviously, I'm pompous and likely to be clinically psychotic, I can still be virtuous in sovereignty and confidence, confidentially.

Promptly, the prodigal, progeny of prosody proudly presents a typographical, demonstrably immodest, personally pathological, proclivity in producing prose and singing epiphanies, this could be considered a manifesto or even a treatise. We've prevented interceptions, just check the latest editions. But inspecting too closely may reveal my suspected neuroses.

My lexicon and metric are collectively detectable but, perceptibly correctable, are they? Only by the independently intellectual and the individually insistent.(i.e. Those who truly know themselves, value and commitment.) And as an encrypted example, you're welcome to decode:

Inevitably spontaneous are the conditions for irony. Unwillfully autonomous in a speech, speeking silently. Dear anonymous, relinquish your identity to the unholy trinity, for we're eponymous upon us in recognizence. Excuses in order for allowing mental polarity irregularities to emotionally commence their damaging dances. If we can't get this handled, under control... containment may mutate into a rage we can no longer ignore. Understand? No?

Erroneous spontaneity is, nevertheless occasionally; in poetry at least, an actionable activity which, greater than abstaining entirely, is conductive in creating a contact point for the soul and the void. A rhyme scheme certainly leaning, so long It would not be wrong to see it like the proteins in an acidic Deoxy-rhyme-o-nucleic facsimile to the double-helix we remember, DNA.

Notice to the inner elocutionist: Editorial additions may go unmentioned, in otherwords return. I've said it before, do not score me too harshly, I'm a rude revisionist unwaveringly laboring in the wings, nowhere, no one can see the strings I pull.

Reliably relatable, capably productive members of society, please constructively criticize my attempts at philosophizing? Liable to what I say, I know it's not to be done nicely, and I appreciate the way immature idiots despise me. Although if yee be differin' in opinion I invite thee to read this again and again until you completely understand it.

But until then, you could safely say this is The End.

Goodbye.