Writhing a well written soul,
There may be thoughts that linger not the same, a bewildering fondness of gouging ego. These thoughts have power so they consist. Eager as a badger with
No contempt for the contrasting figures that allude my pompous experience. I fall and falsify my tasteless judgment, again just to do again and lastly just to show up to do again. It's not the world
It's not the words, it's a humanoid discussion. The creation of thought to be stewed up.
Unfortunately for some this thought has no reason, therefore no purpose.
I regret to inform the unknown speaker of his troubled thoughts
And that the territory in which
my basis of life is complemented
by complete exposure to knowledge
is of the very truth;
Nothing more than, without reason.
Ask agin yourself these questions.
In the mind of a well written soul
there must and will be thought.
Jest with true light that beams out of the hemorrhaging arteries,
And when it does there will only be inquiry of truth coupled to truth.
