TRANSCIENCE: misspell it every time. somewhat quite sure it’s intentional. feel i might be due a nightmare. have been throwin’ too much weight on the psyche. pressing my worth more and more out of existence. and i am more disciplined than i allow myself to believe. with awkward schedule fulfilling each day, awakening to death and the Sun’s mistress giving chase. with each sun set and rise, i drift. world witnesses rebirth. continual birth, and everything turns out in the end. (no fatalist) goat’s head on the wall, staring as i can barely scrawl. eyes that see beyond this vessel, to search a span of sleeping lives. and cold wind gusting, i’m all too focus’d. if only a pocket warmer to thaw these clench’d muscles, nothing more than tepid flesh. nothing, endless flesh. found broken lines, found blur’d thought, i awaken. - and may they never be found having to cook with premium pony meat. too cryptic. i lost it. and now the Muse of Nothingness brings the other, brings the middle ground. continue to brake and simplify. at long without it, the Sea Wolf always finds me. and if to change places, it would be much the same as how this vessel seeks the Sun. and i am consumption of sacrament. and i am beauty all inclusive. and i am crass, purposeful, in misleading. and i am prone to not caring for making sense. and i am Lotus Eater re-emergent. and i am bound to sound like a slow burning. like a little.