oh dear! the zebras are scaling the roof.

packed in in a way becoming sardines, this noise is pertinent. and i tried so hard, but i simply couldn't capture the full extent of your beauty. for our lives are made up of the ability to sort through this mass attack of unremitting turmoil.

torrid affairs, thus this habitual violence will soon come to an end;

this one's got darkness inside of it.

all you must do is emote, but you simply can't bring yourself to do so. sunday morning blues,

you are a part of this machine as well as the whole. just as this subjective reality could be great, but only if you'll allow it. one day she'll come to terms that she is professedly execrated by all.

embrace this continuance, accept it. feel the cold wind whip your hair across your face; close your eyes, and leap off this precipice.