Falling into a place where I can see only the pit of despair, I hover over and recite the same chant over and over. Over. Beginning. End. First to start, what I have created and believe will help bring the arts and myself to heights of self appreciation. I always desired self-appreciation but when received , it became to much for me to handle, and I rarely understand appreciation in the hands of others, it has been touched with emotions that I have never seem, maybe the only time where I am in fear of ignorance and someone else’s feelings. Some, one, else. I was thinking of the 44 and I asked where is the separation of our lives, in the channeling yellow lines of the bumpy road, where hearts quiver and die. I had to go and seek appreciation, because it was the only way, where I was unable to commit my own wounds so severe and intense that I lashed out at your ignorance. I guess it all comes full circle. The cheerio of life, the vicious cycle, respectable enough to show you what has become of the spirit that is truly lost, but found in the confined imagination of being lost. I fell into the pit, well off of the tightly threaded rope that was holding me above the abyss, but before I hit the empty chasm, I hovered up and I began to float. I began to float…float….float….float.