Our turbulent tunnel vision contains nothing but desolate desires. A threshold of insecurities compounded into one colossal culmination. Black heart entropy erodes even infinitesimal galaxies yet the chorus of a thousand skulls is not enough to turn our intemperate eyes from tonic-clonic illusions. Prospering by burning our pressurized prehistoric predecessors and damned to the same predestination. A vain virus being evicted by a vindictive global fever. Intelligent enough to foresee our fatal future and conceited enough to belittle it for present proceeds. A caustic story, light years in creation, approaching its catastrophically ignorant conclusion. The only treatment for our inevitable fate, is a bird’s eye view of our active internal state. Comments are closed.
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