パラノイア, Learning to move along

The towering gates of eddy maelstrom which hitherto had always seemed to stand up.

I don't plan on doing anything according to plan.

The soft limits by things that express death in their origins and ruin in their use.

Vagrant parasitical digressions blossoming, overhanging essential solitude, rambling away from times with perhaps too much abstract shortness.

Where white doves fall as hammers
And marble hornets dream of wilt distorted landscapes

Melancholy spreads a glory over incidents that for themselves would be less than nothing

Beatitudes unspoken
In life we trust our demise
Death we breathe
We bath in blood
To be erased from all time
Only then I
By the rusty kaleidoscope ashore in the solar flare
Only then I
Will cease being incomplete