Phantoms-Cry
I can never find the right words to write down, to type about. I can only amount a small list of vocabulary I simply don't understand. As often as I try to avoid the simple banter I may share with myself typing, I believe it is my limit.
What surpasses the heavens? The latitude beyond our dimension, striving toward belated cognizance to surpass the limitations of our very imagination. Only the mere concept justifying an edifice conceived of such quarrels distraught Simon. Simon digs an elusive reconciliation to pierce the heavens.
As I find my life contrived, I depict a loneliness unto itself. A grandeur; befit to sanctuary. The epidemic that defiles what I believe to be solitude. I can no longer accept our hierarchy, and I can no longer accept myself.