Goodmorning, Glory

This always seems to, move me. As if, I am entrapped in  a field of utter confusion, lost will during the day, for the night and the trials of evening. The cinema, the film noir of this expedition, relies on much of what I have in slumber awaiting, awakening, awaiting realism, in a truthful ode, purpose and re-positioning of illustration. I lose my textures in remorse, and gain more in eventual success. I love more than I can hold and I hate more than I can see, if all of these notes preach of aggression, testify of departure of stability, I then admit that I am beginning to feel the medium between psychotic and supreme intellectual. If this all seems to make sense, then I am in the mode I was molded to fit in, molded to face the transgressions of forefathers, new fathers and children unlike me, but willing to join hands to help my motives see the light of day. Of all of this ramble, I just wanted to be sure that I am healthy, enough mentally to channel this message to you. Healthy enough to share, my world again, healthy enough to deliver my ever-going confession. Goodmorning…..

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