step on. Trick your mind and make you smile. One day I will find the middle road. Until then have the most hostile dreams you can. Remember that I'll be there. There will be that much more to have. I will walk right over it. Step over or step on. Trick your mind and make you smile. One day I will find the middle road. Finding out the true sense of things is something I could say that matters. When I know the kind and call it as I see, the fortress guards often bring me to my knees. Well on my way to learned state of mind that may end all the undoing. Existence comes much easier when we can breath. The framework's here, need only take the time to see.


2. The Prospects of Rejection

The prospects of rejection. He can see himself in these mirrored eyes. All seasons slowly turning static, sequence revealed. All the while these mirrors have been portraits. The prospects of rejection. Time is the fire in which we burn. Our comforts: intents never seen through, passive joy. Faceless heads bruise from hitting the same wall. Endlessly these thoughts inform the themes and slowly the seconds cease to be. Of interest, influence of the memes. Irritants, outreach dies off swiftly. He's boarding himself up in there. Struggle with choice. Satisfaction leaves him cold. Pacing in grave. Reflection on window stares back so hard. A prison without walls stands so firm. Not much longer til mind owns the man. And no one will be seeing him again. See ahead to times of longing. Feeding the future it's daily dose of past. To fill is surrender. While cobwebs and phantoms are birthed. Surmises cement at the corners. Vicious inadequacy. Dangling from the construct. Assigning power to inanimate. He slaves emotion to master. Faint doors fade with this very longing. The sun's moving faster. Is seeing the same thing, same place, same scene, same act. An end.


3. By Which We're Cemented

Forever in the yard searching. What better way to spend the slow dance to the grave? Truth in innocence, so real. When everything's against it, breathing's a luxury. Repeat just what they say. It's a birthright though short-lived. I see smiles melt into mere existence. One's first tooth, a metaphor. A sign our true selves are ill-fated from the start. Repeat just what they say. We've all paid close attention. The longer you've been, the further along you are. There is no turning back. None of us have any purity.


4. In Vivid Monochrome

Mining this standard issue corpse for societal currency. Mind's presence fades. My pulse in race as veins convey. Fear and anger waltz on my answers thought of too late. Taxation wilts all my husks. I can feel the tingling skullwide. Synaptic loss cultivates unending divide. I'm breathing in the fog. Impulses blocked. Cerebral arrest. Taxation wilts all my husks. I can feel the tingling skullwide. Hindsight always plagues me. Suspended thoughts prolong episode and cultivate unending divide. Not even hearing just thinking. Wash of words, the background noise. Blood rushes though rescues none. Taxing yields dust. Standing in a body without growth. This phase has extended.


5. Momentary Senses

Antenna sprouts, desperate. Receptors facing a blank wall. Attempting to receive justification of my momentary senses. Diluting comprehension. Sensing all these words not said. Understand what can't be known. Through life I examine. Old patterns carved deep. Every splinter, a reawakening. Rotting dialog exhausts me. I keep smelling stench from the morgue of ideas. Garbage picking social bonds perception creates. Garbage picking social bonds perception creates. Fleeting niceties stain dark intent of the words. I've been trying to enhance my own expression or did I take it away? An I just like the rest and hear their beat? It's so hard to say. It's in and out of phase. Getting difficult to see past the reptiles. To diagnose the moment is to battle dichotomy.


6. Fossil Record

Rates increase all the time and embrace all of these thoughts. So lost. Photographs fade in every era. Left with their solitude. Reasoning dulls. Voids become deep. Alarm. They plant seeds of high purpose. Mortals drone on. Obsessions define systems. Inserting what fits the picture. An epoch befitting the sum of all the fossils we've left. Always are attempting to fill in the blanks with what is next. It seems that there is less understanding than ever before. A great divide shall separate. Their eyes can't see past the horizon. Do you really think we're special? When was the last time the sun orbited the earth? Explain that there is something different between the make-up of all these bones. We breath, they breath, we eat, they eat, and I think this divide has passed the point of no return. And what we're left with is an inept mass who thinks little and buys the absurd.


7. Summary

There are no answers. And there will be few truths. "X" used to mean "X". Watch as earth crumbles beneath us. I can't bet on things like before. Thoughts empower yet doom the whole of us. Analyzation kills the dream, restart scene. Doubt casts its shadow. Like was said it would. All my statements break down. All's butted, nothing stands beneath us. I can't bet on things like before. Thoughts empower yet doom the whole of us. Analyzation kills the dream, restart scene. I've been weeding in the garden with one season. I consider poison in a world where it never existed. I though I filled in all the blanks but more keep appearing. The quest for the fact wielder. A quest so cold, so bare. I can't take this anymore.


8. As If Bathed in Excellence

I'd wither to my bleak end. Closing up over time. Passions arrested. This isn't why I'm here. It's the fear within. Trail leads to nowhere. Heavy breaths, ways to cope. Wind me up again. Motion of stranger's design. It's the fear within. Seeing color for the first time. The tones disorient, cleansing. Funneled through time's sand. Dreamstates masked as consciousness. It's the cleansing of life. Undo construct. Weight of one's density. A centered periphery. It's the fear within. A common theme repeats. An endless loop. Promise you'll evolve, expiring world. It's the fear within. Seeing color for the first time. The tones disorient, cleansing. Funneled through time's sand. Dreamstates masked as consciousness.