Intention of the best people I’ve ever known has always taxed the meaning of any incriminating monologue of might malevolent at first sight so sleep tight goodnight for its too much to live simplistically if I might I may be honest it’s no secret to happiness that I struggle in the beam of setting light of sun setting on my heavy mind rhythmical triads tinker there is no forgiveness for anything I might feel shame over or ways I was i don’t remember there in a fog of smoggy memory soggy embarrassment and repeated apologies the face in the mirror is tired of its view it needs a new set of eyes windows to the soul to see through and which from outside fresh perspective can see into so finished gutted motivation flipped desolate dreams constillate their own lucidity inside the feeling of who the fuck cares? them and them ah oh yes and they yes and that. Especially with trust handed over and abused by its use of what is perceived as a shrug of mind shouldering its own kind muddled mingling with the chance that the choice of who might have forever knocked your heart while in the ring far out of just might be at the wheel stirring you deeper into a spiral of fear becoming vibrant clearer in the steam soaked mirror dried by the hand of who I hope won’t try the boundary who won’t need to be the seer of my doubts through leftover kryptonite to feed the demon who appreciates the level of volumes turned up along the curves of the energies I leave now exposed in light of my submission to finding this sought out quieted peep of place pieces of mind put back together