It has come to my attention that my recurring way of directing my words to some “you” is not something they feel that comfortable about. Can someone see what I just did there, or did bluntness recently get that blinding?
Quite some inquiries about the point of all this, it seems. Sure there is likely one, but was anyone expecting it to glow in the dark?
“Just as planed.”, they justify their twitchy grinning, whilst unsurely sliding notes under ordinary, later to-be-broken-down doors. Furiously demanding the comfortable lack of competence out of anyone that crosses them, not for an instance stopping that familiar muttering about the current fascinating time of day. And so they shall always keep going, for all that’s left out of our frail eternity, no doubt in sight.
Not getting me out, not throwing the key far enough either, are you?
No, we will be fine. Just like we always are, I beg your ridding of any intention not focused on keeping that memory away from going rusty again.
Have you considered not shouting that? Implying the Eden’s fruit started its rotting the moment they’ve set out to oppose starvation; the constant glutting of their self-pride with anything reminiscent of foreign pain being present mere seconds following the flimsy comprehension of their existence. You would not have taken me as lucid if I were to utter the same blasphemy. Even so, your words, or tired resemblances of such, remain passively undeniable, by who I currently am. So please, by any means, don’t make me shut you up.