They do choose to be utterly overcome and disgusted with themselves again: even if and WHEN, the pen ceases to thINK..

Their wide-asleep minds sneak to CreEP—> into YET another person’s sense of ANTICIPATORY-Vision. Their eyes ARE dry now, their theory-of-mInD finally a-t-t-e-m-p-t to remain

Suitably surprised(..) By this ticker-tape parade of fizzy-old-Souls WhoJUST cannot but… begin to bark-UP the wrong tree Entirely…

This inkling seems to swim deliriously With=IN /& it SEEMS to have its very-own-heARTbeat. Back to basics, theUltimateRetreat, and we w-i-l-l begin to feel

FedUPWith being beautifullyagonised. And aNtAgonIsED by:: something u-t-t-e-r-l-y

Otherworldly disturbing. Actually, it’s NOT what it seems, and never, EVER shall be

Laughing out fucking l-o-w at the seemingly soState: of their irreparable BrAin. No wonder the pain somewhat soothes her Dislocated Soul

because, outrageously Speaking(?)
It’s been her truest identification

And however sad that might sound:: this mind HAS been Screaming OutLOUD and searching for a home ToCallItsOwn- even if there were

A million perfect probabilities, all of them pending to lend a Line———
To a brand now page of ageless depiction, please.