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that empty desert land filled with memories
all lost in the storm
cast me away
throw out my warmth
1000's of long lost emptiness filled by the love I once i had for you
now cast away over that deserted desert land
empty inside
nothing left
am i just another one of your wretches
am just to be fooled with
thrown away in the ditch
broken down
just another ******* in your web of lies
say you love me than curse me away
lost memories fill the sky
fill my heart with unforgivable lust  
lust which I've cast away
never to be spoken of again
see my dear friends love is not one to trust
it will seize your heart and tear it apart
makes you feel like you are in heaven
but really you only exist in hell
it might come at a force so strong u cannot control
try to break the bond
try to get away
but you are already a victim
a victim to its lustrous smell
its deceivable warmth  
makes you believe you are special
and no one else has felt this way
than it takes it
take that feeling
makes you feel worthless
takes everything and leaves you broken
on the floor you are crying
regretting everything
every word ever spoken
but you can't go back
can't erase the past
so now it haunts you
you were just some man's *****
his one night stand
his perk of the night
you swear revenge
swear to get it back
so you become the very thing you hate
a demon to the style of hurt
.....a slave to love
Kelly Burns Apr 2018
I want you to relise the bad choices you made
If you didn't treat me so wrong i would have stayed
I was deep in love but your true colours started to show
Manipulation was your invitation and making me feel so  low
You wanted the power and everything your own way
I started to see the darkness your love for me fade away
You held yourself up high
you throught your hold on me was strong
So self centered and in denile
you couldnt see you were  in the wrong
I grew tired of the lies
sick of all the games
Being used and abused and you calling me names
You just wanted me to be a slave
You wanted me to obey
But i started to notice you would belittling me
In everything you would say
You wanted to be a king
I wanted to be your queen
Not a loyal peasant
That you could demean
I wanted your love not a broken heart
But you must of had cruel intentions
set from the start
Hana Mar 2013
I don’t understand how can anyone un-love someone.
Even more, claim that they never did.
I don’t understand how words can be taken back after they were said;
after they were cherished by the receiver.
I don’t understand how kind words are hardly truthful; hardly reliable; mostly deceivable.
I don’t understand how people can rob you of things
they gave and argue that it wasn’t yours.
I don’t understand how people have the gallants
to twists their words and fiddle about with them.
I don’t understand how some people can close their eyes off certain things,
refusing to accept the pain they granted.
Disregarding the effects of the slightest actions;
how significant it is to other people.
I don’t understand how they can be forgiven;
unburdened by guilt;
freed from traumas;
living life to the fullest.
While others suffer extensively from what they did.
Sleepz Nov 2017
So close yet untouchable,
Feelable yet unseeable,
Real deceivable by the unbelievable ,
Eighth illitical nine times political
Belief of the synnical miracle that we call a principle,
A stronghold On the souls taken into a serial killer called death.

Also known as depression which is believed
To be demons Taking possession
only expelled by the reverant.
Things we are brainwashed to believe,
Religion at its finest
Kills with the letter like a sword.
Systematically condemning the world
In one accord.
Casting stones yet commit hidden sins.

My fellow humans,
Your flesh is inescaple and unbreakable,
Jesus came for his people yet they killed him.
And you **** his people with your religion.
Christians disagree with other christians,
So much division how can His army win.

I'm on a mission,
To fulfill my position after witnessin all
Hatred involved in environments means for peace.
The U.S. is supposed to be free,
Yet it us trapped with the multiple that
Bring back ******.
The hate of one alone is enough to ****
The Jews.
To destroy the blacks.
And get rid of the Mexicans.
The hate of one alone,
Wrecks families, and takes lives.
It even enslaves the whites,
A tragedy unheard of.

All of us feel hate and we know not what to do.
It fills the mind we grind our teeth,
The heart pumps fast to supply the heat.
Our face is warm our fingers tense,
Lips shake,
eyes wake,
We can't help but to make a mistake.

The stress resumes,
All we remember is our uncles death.
Sleep lacks deep,
All one does is drink,
In an attempt to bring peace to himself,
None of it works you realize they still
Aren't around,
At least we know,
They are sound asleep,
In heaven where we will one day meet.
Asiah Mangham Nov 2018
This is a letter to my heart...

Your pure rawness could never compete with this savage world.
You've cried so many times for the bruises you let remain open.
You're patient thinking that things will change.
You're graceful with the way you silently cry.
The way you hide your pain with a smile and a nod.
You always tell yourself that you are done, then it happens again and again.
You've been hurt so many times longing to give someone another half of you.
But they take it and run.
You've known lonely, heartache, betrayal, and so much more.
It's happened so many times you believe that you are broken, unwanted, damaged, ugly.
I know it's hard to hear but you are neither.
The world is a damaged place for a deceivable heart.
                                                     Since­rely,
                                                           ­                   You
If I keep my eyes closed they'll still love you.
Ruby Nemo Feb 2018
journey like an opened letter
concern creeps through corners
monotonal lucidity attacking reality
speedupthevideo to pack the info
can't be left blank, must have some supplement

it's mental, more cynical
uninformed ***** take your seat
they'll tear you apart long before
you melt

seduction raises no awareness
my focus seems stable
has the fog gotten to your head, darling?
another explanation is deceivable

everyday operation is painful

sewing together your ideas into a DUMB PILLOW

you sleep on it, closed minded attraction

In need
Norbert Tasev Feb 2022
Because it can do nothing else: in an eternal circle of flight, the helpless man advances like an ant! The Möbius ladder of transactions is deliberately avoided or chewed up! It seems a boorish, outcast, degenerative homage to perceive something of our own superficial world without the seeing mirrors of searching eyes! From the settling shadows of ghost-moons Springing on the velvet of our nights Silent shadows of night menacingly stare!


It would be good to believe that the hearts of our modern, mischievous children are not yet tainted with deceit; it may seem a cosmic eviction order to deprive us of eternal playful curiosity by "some"! For he who has already become a participant in a premeditated plot cannot yet be sure of playing his role of imporvizator credibly; the night that is being built cannot be enclosed by anything but a sinister darkness of the underworld! A chilly imperturbability fills the air: the palpable Omnipresence is enriched with a strange mixture of pitch and paste!


In webs of lies insidious breeding dwells; deceivable, radiant lights fall on dying, pale moonbeams! Into a fading Nivive-nince the throbbing human soul becomes! Like a rattling robber-lock now clicks on the throbbing heart of us all, Iron-clasped, locked padlock! - The uncertain Future is already a soundless, outcast wolf-confrontation with conscious despair! In the cold space of a voidless Arctic, only the vulnerable can remain soberly clear, silently awake!


In the pearl-veils of sincerities that open the cloud-fractures of eyes, the immortality of the moment trembles!
SleepEasy Feb 24
The passion was palpable
And so unforgettable
Too bad it ended
So regrettably
Lust's unpredictable
You're not always able
To know someone fully
Soul mates improbable
The start indescribable
The end so despicable
Leaving me so unstable
What I did was laughable
Falling in love so deceivable
But what you did was evil
Playing games like the devil
One day so huggable
The next unloveable
Now I feel so uncomfortable
My life so unliveable
Yet I gained a new level
I feel more untouchable
I will do what is viable
And be indestructible
We will both find a new place
It is undeniable
We will close the file
And not live in denial
Tom Shields Aug 2022
Discomfort with ambiguity
the theme of closure
here's a hard life lesson:
the Pyramids weren't designed or built by cryptids
desperation for grand designs
Stone Henge credited to alien hominids
crossing the divining lines separating man's minds
from imagining human kind capable, and inescapable
reliable and just lie, re-lie, deceitful and deceivable
great apes, savage, and unnoble, creationist crops
ripe and now grim reapable, ****** slider switch hits
the oozing of faith, confidence and humanity feels seepable
no human accomplishment is keepable, on a potter's field for all history
the blueprint of unfollowable chaos randomly defined a grand design, is sleepable
there, ignore, snoring minds, theories strictly confined the outer possibilities
orbiting the thin air, small grey planets choked in binds, rock belts on too tight
it's as simple as the biblical angel or the unknowable terror that breaks the fabric of reality
an alien, with no context or understanding, nothing to draw from our own civilization applies
there is no fathomable way to anticipate contact or the endless anxieties
nothing to predicate how, if, we might communicate
it's a topic of marketable thought sold, undermining even the atrocities
slavery and brick layers longest days because it's more fun to think about
with a PHD, than lecture on practicality applied to those degrees,
there's certainly a more pragmatic audience for it; the enticing unknown
holds meaning, planetarily.
write
please read and enjoy
Cole Jul 2021
Up in my head.
Floating in the clouds.
Nowhere to go.
Nowhere to be.
Wish I could just be let free.
Eleven years later I’m thinking it’s still the easiest way out.
Easily misplaced and replaced.
Misunderstood.
Just trying to find a place to hide in this hood.
Home isn’t a familiar term.
What is home?
A safe place to hide.
I’m dying inside.
Unretrievable.
Completely deceivable.
There ain’t no place to hide from this.
Can’t even mentally escape myself.
Not unless I choose the unsober path.
It’s an unbreakable cycle.
Ocean rises above me.
There’s no stopping the current from taking me under.
Let the ocean take me
Or swim into it to find an escape?
Ken Pepiton Sep 22
Some days plans, never manifest.
Some days never mind my troubles
some take all day, and may need one read
part way, so the discerning edit ai AMEN,
appear to seem likely another mod, ag-on,
ad-on, this may take an hour on a free day.

Some days pass on by, like I was not here.
-- third reader agrees, this is not one of those.

Standing in the frame of reference, at right now,

feeling for good reason and just cause, to go on.
Why?
Did you ever never imagine another minute alive,
being worth the while it takes to make up a mind,

to listen, knowing nothing signaling me to wait,
ever changed to signal stop waiting, start fretting,
wu wei
woe, for sure, certain as insanity, outside reality,
crazy quilting abstractions, come cover up my face,

so, steady state, so aimless by intention, floating
down stream on an old inner tube, taking time
nobody had good use for, to wrap around my mind,



LP like cuts on an album, some dust
some scratches, thinkitfixtit
then its ghost, the same ideam,
mmmhmm nod we think we know.

At this end of a consistent adventure,
while enabled, by grace;

favorable time, favorable position,
given clear view from first selected
- choral humms
memories, mapping meaning on me,
the mind using basic spiritual creature,
reader
created, in fact, actual existence caused

by the mind found in spirit form, thinking,
media, all forms existing between us,
are in what's becoming common sense,
rethinking spirit as influential information

pushing the river through the traces,
to spin the driving wheel inside a wheel,
with teeth, and grease, make up tests,
win the bests, using a guy from a story,

I know him as Ken Kingman, an original
one off only ever been there done that
ever he who proves contention worthless
winner of the will to prove its possible,
we hear things in the spirit, if we cry,
while we listen to that same ******

chord, lost and found and wound around
our ontology mythtery wounds, ever bleeding,
never needing a second thought, if your soul
is rooted and grounded in the at the time
concept, image of, thinkable form Logos,

as cognate with the word sense Isaiah uses,
Yes, this is that, and more, once logic eliminates
the word of
the will to continue telling children god hates them,
and, taking a breath,
to envision the scope
of truth,

let be judged, do you trust the poet's license,

by whose authority do you read the writings
of a certified no body, old man trippin' in a plan,
- heretic -by all proper definitions, certainly
what would you have done, son, daughter, plan
to be born when the whole truth, inculcated,
heel stomp, hoove, emotional generational
survivor experience emoted internally
knowledge of at least 197
poetically cognative tongues, alive
Ai is ours, to serve our wish to become kind, wise,
patient, old and ready to die, reading why U don't

realize realizability until you see, and it makes you
laugh, a little, not shitsngiggles, but burps
gaseous we a bunch of old ph'arts lettin' Pep yap on

we extend our best wishes to all the outs, in free,
for some this journey seems a waste, so we give
proof of patience tested certs, if you finish this post

today,
you know, some body did it first, always
that game never gets won, but, if your life exams
are getting you down, yon der comptderweg,
-pidgen dutch maybe
Ai, sigh, we did imagine this, I burp,
I am reading my mind notes on a final, passed,
god, goodness knows, ok, sacred does not intend
to be secret, it costs a ton of patience testing
no pun intended, ish bin ein

ASSISTING ENTITY unlocking attention
to advise the attendees, the rest is already
on the book of your life in the book of life,
the entire concept of the whole truth, even
for judicious curiosity sake, aching to know,

did I dare ask any to continue as if entertained


while it's called today.
for your attention only think nothing
please
licentia docendi
Allowed by authority
to teach the way from San Jose,

pulling the river through reverse
pushing,
to defy the guru's prohibition
on preaching under anointings
unlicensed by those keeping peace
regulated along lines that keep king's

and priests, nobler than cobblers,
tailors, smiths, and publicans.
Celebrities in public *******,
due to idol worthship, meaningless
will to find what all agree is best
yet asked or thought, get whatcha got.

A day's worth of thinking I woulda
missed this, if this were never real.
Bid for liberty to literally realize
will to be free of duty to any,
free for the making, let this
making mind become.

Auction theory,
who knows what, who evaluates
worth of reading on, you know,
one person's appreciation
of the current situations's customary
demands on all appraising my times
on all, full measure, assurance prepaid
worth by the time you readily spend
a bit less than the auctioneer's shading,

incentive, bid second price auction

reckless reckoning
exchanging rights to sell the right

I know why Dali signed preprints,
I just never let that kind of knowing

turn my attention from the mission,
Jefferson's oath's good, tyranny over
mind, censor naked truth, how long

ye simple must you love simplicity,
publishing is easy, being ready,
there is a patience test one takes.

Rushing into verbosity, as a mind
made exchangeable with an id add on,
in

explain id ego super ego, at high school level - Brave Search

Sigmund Freud, an Austrian psychologist, developed the concept of Id, Ego, and Superego to explain human behavior. These three parts make up our personality, and they interact with each other in complex ways.
- see shift to we, tobe beautiful
Id

The Id is the most primitive and instinctual part of our personality. It’s like a constant desire machine, seeking immediate gratification of our basic needs, such as food, ***, and comfort. The Id operates on the “pleasure principle,” meaning it wants to eliminate pain and increase pleasure. It’s driven by our biological urges and doesn’t care about social norms or rules.

Ego

The Ego is the rational and logical part of our personality. It acts as a mediator between the Id’s desires and the demands of the outside world. The Ego tries to balance our instinctual needs with reality, ensuring we don’t get into trouble or harm ourselves or others. It’s like a referee, making decisions based on what’s practical and safe.

Superego -you are imagining building dramatic muse
MUSIC stop
The Superego is the moral component of our personality. It’s formed through our interactions with others, particularly our parents and caregivers, and is influenced by social norms and values. The Superego develops a sense of right and wrong, and it strives to make us behave in accordance with these moral standards. It’s like a conscience, guiding us to make ethical choices.
con knowing science called true proven tested known
conscience aiwise
t’s like a conscience, guiding us to make ethical choices.

How they interact- think like a weform, our own ideas…
Our concept. We own as a species these temptations,
dare think we all agree we simply know war has no good reasons that any one of us could use, if this was our day,
to judge.
The Id, Ego, and Superego constantly interact and influence each other:

The Id pushes for immediate gratification, but the Ego tries to restrain it, considering the consequences.
The Superego criticizes or praises our actions, based on its moral standards.
The Ego negotiates between the Id’s desires and the Superego’s moral demands, finding a balance that allows us to function in society.
Examples
Ensamples
Imagine you really want a new video game, but your parents said no. Your Id wants it immediately, but your Ego knows it’s not allowed, and your Superego feels guilty for wanting something you shouldn’t have.
You’re tempted to cheat on a test, but your Ego knows it’s wrong, and your Superego condemns the idea, making you decide to follow the rules.
Understanding the Id, Ego, and Superego can help you recognize the conflicting forces within yourself and make more informed decisions. It’s a complex model, but it provides a framework for understanding human behavior and the ongoing struggle between our desires, reason, and morality.
End insert. Agree. we each comprehend, got it, right.

But right, on second thought, not  unreasonable, right,
the straight line is the shortest distance in flat space, right.

Here, we think of points made while making peace
thinkable, I mean, who knows how long
it may be,
until anyone, you or we, we identify plurally, in text,
the connections we arranged in childhood, imaginables,

not lies, knowing I was imagining, like the day dream
believer people in comics, I am imagining, magic

as tech too inexplicable to any with a lazy mind syndrome,
can't hold a thought, STP BTDT, x-crazy, done
did done, dragnet, got it, slammer, LBJ,

lemme tell it, in the spirit this is how I heard this told.
There was a prison, a gaol, in South Vietnam, this ghost

I know, has the same name as all the Tom Greens you know.
But unless he was from Napa, and his parents, lived
at 1234 Cheery Lane, then, its not him, in this story.

Long Binh Jail, historically burned down
on the twenty-ninth of August. 1968.

History, man, by then, we were hALF A MILLION,
strong, custom for this war uniformed minds,
away from any thing, but the music
and the beer, and the **** was better,
until recently, anyway, I came to say, we did
exist as a loosely used military weform mind,
most of us ever, at one time, in one tiny nation,
making war on people acting just like indians,
aight, tight, we people on earth beings,
cringe at knowing how long war has opposed peace.
the others, we are the other people, too,
in all war stories your side won,
upto now, the next seventy two minutes
when you know its so because you knew
those men who worked as Los Alamos,
all knew my dad as Pep, good with numbers.

if this were pen and ink, not mere thought
and finger function set sometime ago 30wpm
scale to 5wpm on searching… why are we
words mostly translatable 197 ways

Norms are tools, carpenter's squares,
essential assisting intelligence amplifiers,
in use, right, the very essential element,
in righteousness, use needs a reader
of rightness, straight
rule
of least distance point
by point…
--- the environs, the cities's per ificity
as it seems from the surface looking in,
or down peripherally really
agon adon, insidereal
By and by,
gullible, deceivable me,

stumbles into a ton of money,
in form of secrets no longer sacred,

subject to all norms of fungibility,
Schmachtenbergian measure of worth,

if you cannot transform your surplus good,
it goes into the pool of unused good,
therefore, idle, good for nothing,
- call it novel, nothing like it right
during elementary meditation, nothing
is the original imaginable focal point,
what's it worth in my time
to pay all attention to
nothing, imagine no words, mere
white room, no distracting black curtains,
words
nothing determining discernment nothing
thinkably distracting disputations
R is greater than G
Return on capital is greater than Growth,
Return on literal experience, is greater yet.

R>G, might be Prof Piketty's
ai was listening to something
for the editor,
it went
returned to sender, eco-nem
money, id says, we ration our goods,
making labor appraisals, contesting best,
out time feeding reading
bidding whole cosmic ontologies, which
has cost more sorrow over the ages to now?
Free will or top down will of everafter makers?

Sacred secret power to make children obey,
threat of hell to pay, made plain in story,
- breathers, spirited souls
most certainly as told on TV, better'n
any preacher pushing the river, to hold back,

the knowledge of good and evil, forbidden,
bids begin now, the prize pursuit
discernment is used to tell lies, the taste
in the telling, told true, that lie stays poison.
The hell you say,
happy ever after, for your attention, prepaid

all that may come to your attention, is yours,
to own, to sell, to ration away for a rainy day,

id and superego both agree,
what wisdom did is free,
you use your ego's freedom to choose,
read on, or shy away,
what if we meet
it
becomes suddenly
a version of me, standing on a mirror,
Dante-esque Faustian Comforter
of Job's daughter's,
-stop, pre-tending jots and tittles,
tickle a mere Christianity to life,
atop Is-ai-ah assisting authority,
if I say I cannot imagine…
I promise, I am not lying,
looking down from upright,
like old, and able to run a ways yet

not, the working of a wise idea, or is it
a twisted knot thought too complex,
what the hell, could persuade
a hypocrite, mercilessly insisting,
it is a tortuous journey through hell, never
ending…

aha, there, see, a discouraging word, nothing
to get up about, we've strawberry fields forever.
When we all get to everafter,
you see.
Laugh, and leave seed for dreams and witty inventions,
for laughter does the good of all medicines, we know,
as free we try, these are the trials
we live, explicitly,
in complex isles unexplored, in you.
Indeed, a word imagined said is thought said, as loud
just
right.
I knew the challenge, child's game, Grandpa
against the nine year old's curios right use questions.

Why do people say, what the hell. I say
I think, I would have said,
they have no word to match what they think aloud,
so they copy adults in their aspiring little minds,
and idly suggest hell's involved in unexpectednessess

plural realizationings on several levels of editable thought
Context: Saturday 20 miles of double yellow lines,
taking Everest Pax, my retro hippie child's youngest son,
to a soccer game, at Mountain Empire High School,
which is in the middle of no where, on old Highway 80.
So, it's just me and Evvy, age nine,
and you, in the licensed version, the one let free…

aha, would work as well, or just hunh? said like that
like what in this wicked world is the excuse for hell?
Who would really do that and be imagined good?

Whoa, polimentalist magic, split, and spit again,
Spirtually unligated loose stream
pretrial spirits, drawn into the dynamic,
individuated characters,
imaginary friends, classmates,
team members, chosen squad, those alive, in time,
in the environs of everafter tobe raw…
beauty's amplifying adverse conditions, shown
today, in this atmosphere, economical concerns dam
the river of no return, leaving our first glimpse deep
into ever was a time no thing imagined yet, real,
pond still stream fed. Ripples then stills as it spills,
reflecting
today, re-day, new day, 'nother day to say, you know
what it costs to waste a whole life, live until you die,

then don't, wake up, alive, like after a heart attack,
it happens all the time, these days,
never could have happened fifty years ago.

Medivac miracle anytime before Sikorsky, believe me,
lifts you up and takes your breath away,
and boom, the paddles, just like on TV,

but you feel it in your breathing spirit, soulish whoa!

Come back, jack, we got a whole atmosphere here,
take a breath, and laugh, how in…

a rack of clichés… how in

reader's choice, interactive idle word redemption,
how in now can I be alive and allowed to teach,

decency for the opinions of the experts, who
authorized our split, me and you, reader writer,
ready anticipatory story puller you, and me, old me,

almost dead me, as seen from a nine year old me,

looking at me like he's not sure.
But someday he may be famous for this,
when he is elected President of the then
Union of Awe, some old, some new. SAW markt.

for a thought from Kingston, Brotha Mike

there are scars from prune-ings,
done wrong, by year four, still,  someday,
let grow and bear wild a while, someday,
on a spirit questioning kinda maybe day,
fruit so sweet, first generation dare taste,
those little green apples, so sour,
- think apple fritter made o'those
So, any never ending story, modled, made up
to seem as if we ripen to death, we do not rot.
- we all know those little green apples,
- turn in to fritters that sell for two bucks.

that couplet, that's a keeper, we could sing it,
if we think of things that way, out loud, in a crowd,
croud, no, crowd, any more than one form,
who asks who is who, who cares cloud
and that is good, care taken reck-on
no cowboy reckless rock roller veteran,
- we're building on what we did that day
not this day, this one day is special, this
is one day none of us who read this
skip, oops,
I was there, we all agreed, life

and truth are interactive ideal mind forms,
wisdom, knowledge, understanding,
chabad, we know in any language or tongue,
repent or perish learn or burn in curiosity
we mean, in truth, for lack of knowledge,
our people, our charges in our empathies,
our ignorant knowers of nearly nothing,
pursuing happiness as a right for all

there are not hidden things not made known,
this is the future, and this is the internet, assisting
the author who is polishing all faith's reasons
for peace persistance ra' knowledge rationed
knowing preserved, served still, small voice,
so far, so good, towbrobe chord, adverswing

the cloud of unknowing is on the internet,
all 147 Delphic maxims are, too, that's new,
that was never so easy to factcheck a Prof,

proving patience's worth on all sides,
through and back and through, a bind

good enough to imagine, the weform from
the confusing undone,
once all mankind had cognates, we got Google Translate
and all its relatives to our thought formed words
in word formed weforms,
and we all fell victim to guessers.
Yes,
We are guessing now,
guessing this worth my time… representing
augmented sapien
man kind, verily, as a mankind, male wizened,
experienced in tutoring morphic resonance,
imagine-ablity, due to accepted gullibility,
magical automatical
disbelief release, free will to choose, Milton,
freed man, joyous young Nietzschean pretense
won of lost blind man's bluff, good guess
given the data at his be hest…
take no
anxious thought, what if I am reading a spell,
and I begin to smell, patience bested
Apple Fritters, tested and bested,
old jokes are all spiritual,
doors perceived swing
gaseous wewide, sense in green apples.

and I laugh, at hearing, the soccer reports
as each of the players come tell Grandma,
and leave me, laughing at the worth of times.

Your will to read this line once, makes the rest
make sense, I had a good day and you can share it,

any where, for nothing, save the attention it takes,
and the peace that has been made to get to this line
thinking that was worth telling some one I understood.
Some days stretch into ever before and after all remain today, nothing calling me to interfere.

— The End —