• thoughts concieved but never die within our mind of lost reprive never knowing when to cease only numbered by the beast a field of flowers dormant lay a mind of wonder lost,astray, but never knowing of disdain until its the apocalypse that you portray deep inside a candid folly that will slowly rot and decieve your maintentance of self but no, not depressed or dismissed, but like slow anguish on a mental cyst so why integrate and slowly corrode, your mind, the place you call humble abode, for deep in the shadows of the dormant mind lies the end of humanity and all of time, for inside its deep but never broken, you thought it was gone but now its spoken...