Goodmorning, Glory

So much locked inside of you, barely touching the surface of what you pressured into a corner of pretentiousness and doubt. You are the complex, the design, in which we find ourselves, nursing contradictions, nursing ailments and domestically abusing health, hope and spiritual success, comes so easy, the entrapment, the freedom, the ignorance of bliss, manages to hold difficulties, beyond the physicality of, us, understanding, the cerebral and I. Before I mentioned stories, you know of children, the perseverance of the “youth”. I am not sure, if you have been here that long, to remember, but for similar reasons, I am creating a platform, for the burial, the mass for the pangs, the tangents of distress, that are carnivorously feeding on their demise, um, the more I can say, the less I can feel, the more I can feel, the less I can see, the deaf and blind know this through, circumstance, relaying my position as the medium, speaks volumes, but the muteness, falls between your lap, as you and I sit and watch, the motion of hopelessness, all I can say is, my offering is arriving.