The quill's sodden ink evaporates while this bell jar encapsulates leaving these dreary words to permeate only to rain back down and stagnate
this terrarium, my lonely estate pickling eyes that spate people peer through the glass only to deprecate while I slowly start to acclimate
two horizons squint until light dissipates allowing the darkness to overtake monsters crawl out to dilapidate snarls and growls devastate
this is fate this is fate this is fate this is fate is it too late is it too late is it too late is it too late echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate this is fate and it is too late these echos verberate and I ruminate I ruminate and ruminate and ruminate and ruminate
with a languid gait a countenance set straight while I desperately try to create a happy blissful sunny green free state
it's not too late it's not too late it's not too late meditate meditate meditate meditate don't let the glass alienate pick up the hammer and swing till the glass B E K R A S.