What conquers you when no one is looking, what can you see in yourself when they strip away the notoriety, the true story lies there. The true story of everything you may think are hauntings of fictitious nature, well the honesty lies there. Everything lies, lies, we lie, but to whom are you lying to. Where do you see your lies going, where do you see us going, where do you see me going, away from you, my mind is such a wonder, but I denote much of it’s majestic process of thought, when I ask what do you think of me, or what’s on your mind, or how do you really feel.
Are these feelings real, are we real enough to feel yet, or are these romantic gloves covering fingertips of confusion and misunderstanding. I LOUVRE you, but this sentence means incredibly more than what you think, I think that I am incredibly more than what you think, the pedestal of solid gold, tears and misery, wait necessary misery.
Why does the intellectual scream so much, why do we need the space to scream, well from my point of view the only thing worth screaming of is beauty, self knowledge and the coming of something you knew was granted to you, since the doctor stated your sex to your mother, as she sneaked away from school during the day for that glorious, award-winning, creative, honest, sensitive, fragile, observant, and honorable sonogram.