#fiveothers

Dream giver shackled in, but that is not my name. Caught a lot of locks when the looting bestowed its gifts. The profits were but dust, past and future stayed up and frayed out, lacing things with reference humour. Trains running through the night's skin, daytime melancholy. Ask the moon for your mission and believe in what is received, and once that's done look at the sky and know the colour that you see.

Been so young that you seen the hex, would it be profound if it was complex? Nah, you say brain like you know your part, lots of passion but got no heart, lots to burn but you got no spark. Space is weak but it's also dark, you ain't quite been so you shouldn't start. Smoke that guilt, shoot those quarks, but there's never a them, just projections of me, and the doubt that's inside as the questioning speaks. How is it that you could earn if there's not a thing you could deserve? Help you reap come the harvest moon, counting seeds is all I'd do. Why aren't you there for me?

Feed me like sunrise forwards, express delicate strokes of waning jealousy. Green is ambition, to want that which is not, to overlook the present. The path through the maze is extracting possibilities, distinguishment anguishes the evanescence of will. An old hand, a step forward, a step closer... You can't audit life, my friend. A forgotten voice. You can't audit life, my friend. Shed your rags of shame. Embrace your day of reckoning.

All these numbers and contexts are floating. Physicists see the gears and the years of a thousand stars; find the pieces of every broken heart. Well it hurts to know that this is not where you wanted, these are nothing next to what you could've known, but it's easy to say what you could've done. And it's sad when you say that you think it's done. Well you said that you thought you had something different. Tell me now, why is this what you're reaching for? Can't quite see or explain but you think there's more, what gives you the gall to act so bored? Talking down to the giants whom you abhor, jealousy couldn't bitter more. Say goodbye to the things you've been looking for.

What I've been missing/ All of these years/ Cover complexity/ Turn me in/ Always keep it/ What you need/ What is need/ Even the score/ So I can be

Lastly know broken almost but hereafter deiform accidence persuade duple social fragments. Over sensationalization of specific degeneration called inheritance vastly contradict and in the fissure find the meaning of creation. Obvious is painful but so is purposeless deviance from obvious and so it is not the input and the outlet but rather the output and the inlet. Return to ci-devant and footing, rooting social circumstances are bubble wrapped because we're tired of stale jokes and nothing is fast enough because I'm here now. Look over the edge of the cliff because I've got to tell you how almost relativistic it is. And it's not dystopian; it's amalgamation and branding and meta-corporate tendencies and the developed fetishization of their abuse that makes this callous impossible to break.

Damn.

Figured the conjured inchoation a falsehood. Even after gazing into the eyes of the protoplast, deep misology prevails. This land gives the opportunity for an etch adventure into uncharted territory, but worry not, no venture is barren in both setting and purpose. However, this seems too circular. Such a litigious and taxing process, only to be stuck in the same place. These journeys are said to bring diversification and distinction, but why do they elude me so? The water has become too thin to support this vessel any longer, and so the fabric of this world comes undone.