Basic Rumination In A Rubber Band Comments

Too precious to be expressed as an illusion, I corrode the oblivious nature freezing time to an ever melting image now nothing but a sickly drama of synthesis locking me in a whirlwind of hysterical laughter.
Colours yet to be breathed and tastes yet to be cemented violet on iron-clasps swelling with blood shake snow on the copper valleys contriving flesh, the smell of rotten breath is the only remembrance of disgust — even this is what those whom you'll strike dead in the morning call an artistic ideal.
This is the place I never wanted to visit — and so I am.
Like the dawn, the fits of laughter will bring us to our knees and we will pray in a landslide submerged in the fluctuation of tears creating infinite ages inside the backbone of a millisecond, the rehearsal which lights up the endless night.
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