finalization freedoms and their consequences

the last stop for the bus and crash landing-quixotic and benevolent-spider gracing the table we stand as the moon drops his hat and unveils the emblem we tremble and everyone is on one knee, i step over the rail and i'm in the great returning fluid-like oceanic experience. i'm floating and i take my own hand and great is the feeling-i want to flee but i want to stay-i want to get on with it, but i don't want any dramatic plays-pulled from the greatest on broadway.

"its all a game," they shout, "have you know wits?"

enough is enough and i fall in the open field. go away, back to your lair, back to your operatic musings and happiness trauma. i've had enough with the critics. once they return to their holes, all galvanized in their glory, we can get on with the real news. the fire will burn the water and the water is sickness and the sickness is fire.

"what a shame, what a god damn shame"

i'll see you again on the precipice, on the shingles of humanity awaits the freedom specter. a mile a minute as they pass by. and we speak to the passer-by, the unknown faces-just give them a smile. bag the lady and monetary value statements-its the enjoyment value, really. trust the argument laden tanks-they spill their filth on the helpless.

longer just makes it worse. shorter- and it's all told.