Yes, futility my old shell of justification left upon the sand of a million grains of thought, every speck individual in the moon spun tides taking the nothing back to the shore writhing undertoe be thy bain, ethereal electra existing in a lie lying existential just like Sartre on a beach blanket.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Yes, futility my old shell of justification left upon the sand of a million grains of thought, every speck individual in the moon spun tides taking the nothing back to the shore writhing undertoe be thy bain, ethereal electra existing in a lie lying existential just like Sartre on a beach blanket.
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