Watched the windows darken to the sound of the same gripes and condemnation, heard the whispers between vespers and the dogged rally against new ideas. Anything, anything, just not the shallows; decanter bare dangling hopefulness from the likes of no man’s conscience for the worrisome to trouble themselves furthering.
Traits and becoming hints from the hardened grounding out of thought persistence and reaction that poetically demeans itself dread from the partisan legality behaviorism. Watch yourself, these outliers are most vulnerable to the stigma, as if the reiteration would help keep in place those loose ends we fling up at the thought of such confinements.
Jurisdictions in popularity and the simpling myths easily bestowed for the characters we’ve never been and the types we refuse to fill but for moments. Those moments, those instances must be alone to us as much as them; how else would we know the proper service of language but for the popular receptionists allowance censures? Causation punishment for crimes never committed and words never used to themselves conspiring against the actual movement of pursing habits. Every one must garner themselves fit or else; must have certain luxury accosting correctness and professional apriorism.
Certain entrances neither narrow or wide have guarded likeliness and absurdity against the natural density of being. And unless you conform…the threatening indictments much better off worse toward the ideas of us and the ways we could be creating ourselves against are grained and thrashed as ready standards for metaphors in one plant type to damn the rest. Don’t be…conforming.
Looping of instances for the chance to recover our own diligence and remember the space between is never as great a refractory as any sentencing would allow itself in a point.
Guessing toward coincidence is manufacturing situations in which illusions seem likely enough to perform accidentally. Contortions of chaos that naturally despise the record; the impossibility of recording or recognizing actual coincidence especially surrounded by so much myth and mania complex. Superstitions and conspiracies for the concealment of uncomfortable information and the excuses left to the forethought before itself again instant reactions and all the impression we get ever is those tiny snaps. Drawing lengths of words to form themselves in medium of stance and congruence in realizations manipulated by the falsifying sense of mystic absolute.
Never been wrong before, those dreams once shared or letters crossing themselves gaining inference for the boxed concentrations bettering themselves for the supposedly and bruising against the ridiculous and massively shamed derivatives and only the best could, as if these are triumphs for the complex of heroes and martyrs, for the divining saintly and perfectly willed decision making at just the proper points of conjecture or else!
Colliding degenerated parts missing and delicately set aside for purposes infringing upon themselves as their gathered in panic reminiscent proofs of illogical mayhem and self styled abuses in wariness of actual values and their placed indications according to affordance structures we will never bracket accurately enough for actual chaos. The way that smile leaned almost made a wince from the fear of the insanity of ourselves or that which we fear becoming; the surety of thought space and the canceling that manufacturing causes itself to out in splatters of mythologies and unfair stress for situations never even actually involving us.
Any eventually to involvement despised in its own righteousness for the supposed cares in protective measurements winding up on themselves from the falsification dilemmas they net together for others. Garnishments of power, that corruption that caters violence says everyone must ultimately and gives no recourse or cause. Normally, we barter for our own recognition of self, peering about in emptiness and utter silence as others formulated reverence or contortion seeks to dismantle or build us and either is usually unforgivable mold patterns to allowed motive as if each fits a certain wave that could stance itself past a moment that bends far before the seconds we allow most reconsideration.
Behavior we are allowed or that which is magnificent in narrative to the very simple toils and daily burdens; the boredom sarcasm that could be anything but and oftentimes frightens itself in such parted framework.
Anything you could imagine, but surely only the best stock set out for us in image or portrayals: the sewage and its perfume to make nice with the culture wars and voice fighting tooth and nail for presence beyond impersonation and falsity. Reliable and believable dramas were all our own allowances and since they are ours anyways…
