why are we driven to nurture the absolute emotion of need and seed the future revolution in the eyes of none that really matters. when our bones are dust and the memories left behind are fragmented bas-relief reflected off prisms of what was, yet not. i see a purpose beyond the mind's eye yet the plasma glare of reality burns the shadows leaving stark cold naked acts of senseless parodies.
are we all just here to breathe and die yet live to wish for hope without form.
my ramblings has taken a turning pivot without much clue of what desire in jack o' lantern's enigma trapped in puzzle boxed in mystery
i know you don't have an idea and neither do i in this stream of thought anymore
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