Tripping over infinitesimal hurdles of past and present.
Silenced by the noxious screech of bioluminescence.
Etcetera, etcetera, the dull pound never ends.
The heart within my mind, it seems, is fated to pretend.

Insatiable and greedy, yet, comforting to some.
Arrival of this brooding thought, devours me to none.
What is this?
What am I?
Opinions?
Why can't I?
Apart from mortal boundaries is how i truly fantasize.

Your life to live?
Abide the script.
The past will never provide you with..

**A place to hide