stand up amidst shadows which stretch through the night onto old rusty train cars which can’t stand upright. there’s a hole in the common sense; a cold disregard of a fortune spent swiftly to build up a fence ‘round the yard.
my, my what perpetration of a scandal dark and twisted; of a canyon of discretion culled to speculate the dawn. to a rope tied and hung between banisters above you as you dance along the cracks beneath the carpets over floors. finalize determination, all diseased upon completion of a catastrophic tendency to tire of the world you built with hammers pounding nails; you built with iron, steel and failures measured against success to count upon to hold you in its arms.
my god, it’s only what you dream of. life is warm if you can team up with the visions wrought before you like a candle over wick. there is no path, there is no trick to it.
just grapple around in the dark.