to crowd together swapping tints at a time when attempting the impossible looms in general knowledge printed on the nib of abandon - circumstantial evidence frenzy – when differing acts hold master keys to exacting small hours
appealing to a turn for the worse announces a certain jargon scaffolding this expression
plays light with cross references of focus and wrapping up of flair, it is too much to ask for the temple of this life to stoop even when appearances determine otherwise, it is another discourse altogether that opts for this sort of distortion, but we all know this pattern is smoothly run over us in different directions regardless of this focus,
any amount of time reduces allowances and transfers costs, this very routine doesn’t work because there is no stretch of the imagination long enough to encompass all its features, and we miss the point coming close to a theme of sense, that all truths are representative of further investigation, purely because attention repays, at least that is how we comprehend it and this is not always how we average it out, that is to say how we precisely distance ourselves from any real understanding as a method of factual diversification
but then that is not to say we are all forfeiting our attention span to the services of distraction, but it could be said, that half of all developments in time are numberless realms that transfer awareness to another deliberation of nature, our natures, that we have not yet come to terms with
in any case, first is the problem of mass misunderstanding and this comes as no surprise, what may come as a surprise is the suspense which all factions rely on,
then as now the given substitute for all this focus, is more likely to be a replacement
in the closed forecast any late developments touch this avenue more realistically
if there is a way to live that spirals the bed of roses all the way to playing havoc with phrases, articulation, and the turning of a sentence until it loses its footing, no staking claims to sky-high rituals or dying (died) for information
always single out the backdoor
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
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1 comment:
prose poem or dramatic monologue? interesting either way. it dances on the edge of obscurity and hints at so much more. bravo!
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