In cSerial delectability’s milky wayeight
A vague understanding of everything is generally enough information to carry one’s self adequately when attending the socially structured artifice known colloquially as the Cocktail Party.
when drawn composites—
hypothetically sprawl their
quarks about, submitting
charge to the
sea quench sequential
as alike are
An assertion made out of guttural instinct, is just as likely to stem from indigestion, as it is, to originate from some psychically charged state of dalliance born adrift from experiential view.
Madcap rationales are but separate forms of bias. They are, can be built upon, either stacked instrumentally or charged electrically; from beneath the flesh, it may tap deep into the realm of something along the lines of soul-stich, yet, it is also possible to balance the unexplainable explanation through impartments bestowed.
In such cases, as could be found in this, the latter possibility, one is advised, that if travelling down such pathways is an absolute necessity, then, to simply cite sources close to the situation, without abdicating any pertinent details of any kind whatsoever. We advise such discourse, simply for the factuality that is inherently absconded through the academia(s) of belief, where ghosts and apparitions, no matter their ability to be maddeningly informative, are instant routes to discretization.
Here within uncertainties pronounced, afterimages, as they linger, rest upon the rungs laced in Déjà vu.
Please, be kind to yourself, for boson’s will certainly grow overactive in their affection towards quantum (st)ate. Upon listening to these “soldiers of scholastic bigotry,” a composite reaction may turn from void to null, breaching the realities of solutions self-absorbed.
Dynamic prisms…crack, scratch, claw and whinny
Whence pondered upon in discourteous lights
Administers requisitioned from anecdotal times—to instill a sense of structure to stories born sans-wisdom—
often goading its ratability from special places, the kinds often reserved for mystics, cynics and weavers of the fountain stick
from the bellies of allegory, storytellers recount and reanimate, the songs once spoken of. Here that juvenile sense of wonder is revitalized, where even within the callously benumbed, a rekindling of innocence is once more elated to the magical realms of dreams, found, even with, no, especially for, all their flaws, where
It’s sated tongue, with
The feelings allowed to
Then therein flutter free—
Then think again.
Think. And generally you’ll get by…but
When you can no longer tolerate the drab and dry, then perhaps
It’s time, if one can accept the possible consequents to come, to
Think again(st)_________________________WHY, WHERE, WHAT, HOW, IS, CAN and WHEN….questions, such as these, are, can be, a freely operational mind’s best of friends—
A septet whose inquisitions shall always offer dialogues that never end.