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A rare inward look. Dense and hard to follow. |
Juxtaposing reality, abstracted thought lifts through fibrous root to fibrous tip of each neuron. He embraces passivity, clutching to soft solace’s sole guarantee of unique comfort as if to state rebellion to the rest of the world while speakers deliver medley to silence, Notes can easily drown sanity when solitude is at hand. If irrationality isn’t worth the time, why does it ring true? As if droplets procured from the eye’s corner of some hapless soul swathed in a constricting white garment brewed electric power within their saline substance, splashed over the lines set forth by faceless authority, Reason blurs and ramifications seem as obscure as a sermon belted forth from the lungs of a self-righteous believer. Senseless turmoil boils over, proving all he was told in confidential rooms; the costly prophecy fulfilled— amounting to damaged empathy, let alone the unusual perception equating to an inability to relate. Future seems to contain a certain individual, future being a sheer white room behind a bolted door, inappropriate thought is appropriate in none but the safest settings. A desire to sever monotony is adjunct to an acid criticality scratching away at the fault of peers and ‘superiors’ with a sapphire needle, in an effort to make sense of his own shortcomings. He prefers the term ‘eccentricities’ (and who wouldn’t?), when silliness comes into question, fixing a crosshair of apathy’s anesthetic cannon upon the ebbing slap of reality, its insulting presence seeming to request its impact. |