(no subject)

[geometroblaster]

the beginning of a paradox,
cycles, the equinox arrives as titles get misdirected.
in essence, questions are sectioned
selected from where most choose to toast to imperfection,
suggestive and quite convincing.
yet as I wince in the evening,
wise wizards weep away achieving,
no hope in today's float.

but in this promise it's critical to laugh in type cast
re-ignite to broadcast honesty.

and along go the arrows,
they formulate to narrow

where i want to be,
dare to stare beyond what used to be,
so who sees when these ends become the beat.