The night of apocalyptic vision, arrested development for a aspiring genius just to ascribed productiveness, long assembled arguments
Life is one awkward dilemma at best, this axiomatic truth, battered witticism, bravely vanquished in the dark of night, a brooding peace
A cataclysmic element ceaselessly remarked, as ghostly apparitions, gladiatorial exercises that give citation and allusion for night
rippled and maimed, crises and struggles a critical crime and misdemeanor to be crowned and sceptered as in life deep and subtle conduct
One momentous pause moody silence no multitudinous mundane importance. Lost in murky recesses hands in a neighboring mists nerveless hands
this a numbed stillness lost in makeshift occasional flights of olive grayness oratorical displays. With painstaking paroxysmal outburst
I feel sometimes like all meda is no more than predatory writers just a pregnant hint. Preliminary assumption are prepossessing appearance
The mind is like a lonely wild summer sky with incessant play of fireworks as thin faint songs when the wind wearily sighs a clap of thunder
Today like an angel's wings opened into a furnace, motionless and fierce as fires to collapse as if by enchantment perfume and pure as prayer
Moving more like some great express train, roaring, flashing, on a track of pure and endless light, only to be a knight worn by conflict
Daisies rest in hamlets as if jeweled objects, high and radiant an oceans with dark gentle sounds of stillness landscaped
Today like an angel's wings opened into a furnace, motionless fierce fires to collapse as if by enchantment and pure as prayer
What seraphic shadowy abstraction resting on a shore-less sea,solid knowledge knows no substance, solemn soulless mechanism.
