Hyperbolic Dish?
Pieces of belief... skies open and bits of disaster fall... strike us mournfully. Life is leaps, faithful ones, made en loop to no end, assuring nothing but the next. We've all fallen in line, according. Pretty, narrow paths which we follow, and to our own flirtation with the beautiful arrogance of fate, break from and stray ever so woefully and often... I am tired of having what is thought too good to be true have itself proven as such. Tied hands of neglect, what is waiting for me? What next? Should I seek the sound I hear, through the wisps of sleepy fog? Should I chase the flange to where it lie, hissing through metal teeth in the night... find me or don't. Don't play with me these games. Let out my leash, report to cut but halve it. I display a pretty high propensity to fail at this situation. Not that it makes any difference in the long run.
My brain is about lost right now...
My brain is about lost right now...