wrent in twain
By Neurosine
searing, seething, writhing, laughing, into my soul, into my soul..... rearing morbid children, dismiss them, dismiss them, into the world of the seekers, always searching, and digging, with an axe handled definition, finding....finding nothing understandable. All evidence inadmissable, mission so fucking impossible, every assumption, implausable, as wisdom builds hills of great promise. Nothing can be as it seems. Dreams break away into the chaotic substance, and we label it misunderstanding. Still everyone demands we have reason, we don't babble mindlessly, and spout out our treason. Written April 22nd, 2002 © on Apr 22 2002 12:56 AM PST, Neurosine 0 • 10
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"searing, seething, writhing, laughing,..."