All is said and In solitude, the bull rests. No longer will the degrading eyes stare upon us. For we are now one in stare in solitude isolation desolation do we know the difference? Isolated into a tiny mindset where no one else can hear or see you an author in pain only writing from his rib in flow of conscience dots on a tiny page are no different from the water she is. The bridge we hold with this only covers a gap for so long before it crumbles. A key to a lock I’ve no need to pre think my writing though am not claiming to be a god. To those with the loudest and most obnoxious thoughts I am but a simple *******, pessimist.