The intricacies of english literacy are so hard to see in the spaces that leave traces and reverberate through our eye's glazes.

It's so hard for me to think of three or more reasons to love free. You see, I once had a heart filled with glee for thee then one day I realized it was all just a fallacy.

I write randomly as my fingers pace and leave no trace of logical thought. As if not wanting to leave a maze because of its inherent beauty as you race through and hope to be lost for days.

And all I wanted to talk about in the beginning of it all was about the satisfaction that is sporadic interaction with your keys to create this chemically grammatical calamity, as if planned to be so disastrously disorganized; resembling the unplanned beauty of nature itself.