A conundrum that can't be tested, even how hard you try to exercise every specific. Just ail parts on a spinning axis with no conclusion! The conclusion to test the bewildered expression of pieces without there own thoughts. Feelings resort to compassion. Excluding the taste all together. It’s messy how something exists, which has no theme to what they are, and how one is tested. Tested to take your parts and find some commonality with more existing parts that urge the taste of compassion. A taste with its sense of propriety. Justification to mount moral terms with oneself. Oneself can’t tell itself apart. Only pieces trying to organize itself while spinning their connections down the rut! Permanent desire to fetch them out of the phase that’s established its original premise. Originality has no qualms with the likes of compassion. Setting up without any discernible corrections. Meant for outsiders within themselves to judge, plan, and exercise, without mercy to anything but oneself. Spinning axis burns desires upon urges that breakdown over time. The spinning pace doesn’t stop, until you stop and learn what truly is happening. Pieces remain in the rut. The rut full of many spread out phases too much to take in all at once. Plans don’t go to your agreement. Something outside oneself has yet to appreciate yourself, and what you have to offer. Except how does one do that when many pieces are too spread out for one to notice? Every specific is already radiating like a charged particle. Charging too much friction between one another. Trying not to lose one another in the constant spin of irony. Irony devoted without practice. Practice makes time for oneself to finally notice the originality of its premise isn’t truly spinning on its axis. It’s actually strolling for one’s interpretations to finally notice its static charge. The different pieces are holding on. Fetching the obvious back into circulation. Circulation outmatched not by itself. But by perception of a fully established sense of self.

Flowers dry up when there not impressed with themselves. Withering back down below depths of uncertainty. Prompting joy that shouldn't exist. Commenting on a bigger structure that is not from within. It's around them. Circumventing proudly for all to see. If you aren't impressed with yourself. Then how will you bloom again for all to see?

One story may change the world someday. One that will revolutionize the steady constants of how everyday aspects judges itself too harshly. Never finding the solve of anti pressure release syndromes. Plot is plot. Ideas are always outspoken. Even if one or the other hasn’t agreed. Won’t change the facts given to the recipient who may have already judged the opposing two. Without running through what they have already been about. Futuristic plot devices aren’t important. As it may not even exist. Storytelling being a futuristic realization to knowing something before it happens. Feelings clawing thought processes. Thought processes trying to equalize the incoming rush of emotions that rise and fall. Feelings being a different breed centered in the middle of the steady constant. Revolutionizing what you already know. Blind to see it through. Thought processes aren’t too judging. Except when you start to trust feelings too much. A jealous implication arises. Knowing what you already know before it happens. Is no different then how one already figured it out. Feelings handle it with care. Thought processes stuck in the mud. A puppy without any directional skills. A master never telling its true flaws if it couldn’t understand itself to begin with. Jealousy is rising even more. A fixed implication is becoming more dominant. Revolutionizing the main flaw more and more. Nothing is without equal if you never give it a chance. Feeling the way through all the clutter. Clutter not being your fault. You were molded by the pressure of what storytelling has made you into. Plot devices center these focuses without thinking outside itself. Your only to blame, when subjects apart of your judging becomes too sterile for you to notice anymore. Drying out the process of trusting something with care. Becoming one who is blind to never looking outside itself again! Becoming the stick in the mud. How does one avoid? Easy! Storytelling being a futuristic realization! PS… Don’t claim what you already know!

Life, the universe, existence, and all its possible occupants aren’t truly what they seem. Coherent enough between intervals and radiuses. There all present, right? Present is a term meant for the typical surface area. Things aren’t always what they seem when hiding in the dark. Darkness is without equal. Light is a mere pale imitation full of global pandemics! It’s our belief system. Darkness is turmoil. Light is delusional. One without equality, has no bearings to equal itself. Itself having no identity. No speaking. Nothing to argue about. Sitting in a stereotypical platform! Nothing dynamic about life’s purposes. When everyone is cleaning up the trick hiding in the light. Darkness has no equal. It’s scared. Not out for itself. Light is, because it understands too much. Shutting out the one who is truly full of equality to begin with. Revolving around the spectrum we call life, the universe and existence. Mere plans that sit and stare. Never making a true mark on anyone’s very sense of self. Sense of self bleeding dry! Being dry doesn’t mean it’s without equal. But without purpose. You all never understanding why that is. Tricking you into believing what is, and what really is. When what really is just another diversion staring off with a blank expression. Life is inside out for one reason. Components become instigated by mere lies. Stamped by something totally made up. Tethered by the strings of half lies, and half truths. Never perceiving the real giving’s on what truly matters. That’s the problem. Half truth never becoming that realization. Too dangerous for outsiders to truly perceive. Components are stamped to believe in false impressions on purpose. Reasons that go beyond the spectrum of every sense of life combined! Life, the universe, existence, is nothing without its occupants. Very reason they have thought’s and feelings. Nothing is without reason. Unless it’s a forced gimmick hiding in the light that isn’t equal.