Those are the angles you won’t see. Those are the places where I wander too. Somewhere in between crevices made of separating rocks piled onto one another like a mountain of mountains. Where darkness is more a symbol of the isolation that it is an absence of light. Cause I’m the light right?

It’s my cave, it’s not an allegorical cave. I hide different things here, I write many more things on the walls. These objects don’t make sense when you put them in the same place, like so, strewn about and across and this way and that way. Somehow though, they  equate to whatever I have become.  

You’re probably blind but if you’re not you should be able to find yourself in the subtext. I guess. That was the intent. Rather, not my intent, but an intention that I can’t get passed, move on from, depart from, let go of, swallow, spit out, chew or forget. Stop being cheesy and enjoy the wine… ******.