Here I've grown to accept the riddles of each day, to culminate into a coalesced mesh of disarray.
Never would the seeds down under sprout to see the sun at the mere sound of thunder.
X marks the spot somewhere dissolving in my gut, wrenching at the chance to give both some and none of which we call *****.
I've lost my faith in humanity,
I've lost humanity in my faith.
Yet I'd face my fate if only just to sate the state.
This flip book of stop.
Animation.
Assimilates fremescent assibilation,
And similarly tastes terrible,
Savoring like dry sponge, and tied tongues,
It's incredibly trivial, just a trivia of syllables stripped up to simple tools.
Simple tools.
Simple...