Throwing stones, Actions and the shape of you

And I know the end is approaching, the silence is beyond deafening, falling on closed, ruptured ear drums. Don’t Blink! I thought I had been patient, reasonable, more than I thought could exist, the exit gathers Mobius strips, every day I learn more and less about you. Transparent, less engaging, rusted blown fuse. Leaving without you, me. Gradient, more like the grate that your ankle twists and gets stuck in, peeled with a silent devotion to a life time of screams and throws towards a fog and mirth, fractured. Depend on Science not on people. Stab out your eyes and ask for a smaller heart, the future is becoming less relevant; where is Reverent action, silence. Skin and souls are tender. Bow ties are cool, you are tenuous, where is my jetpack.. future, the only thing that is certain, Epic thinking.. and real is impossibility, paradoxically, reality that is weak and flecked with collusion, delusion, dealing, question, answer solution sediment and too many cogs in a machine that is set to flux a wage of war  on fluidity. Set the bar too high, caught in the barricade in stockades, a blaze of young pavement. fare. Is it hot the fire – preheat uphill.
When I’m coming down, you have the knack for me being rather vacuous, whipping, dripping out my spine through my brain through my chest walls, despondence, wasteland, never enough, sorry for my empty brain and chest.. you leave me empty, a heavy leveling. Losing you.  A redesigning of hollow architecture.  Rough designed with structured Geared tendered, bombastic particles tripled synced tiered repressed synapse fucked because people fucking Let you down.  – Ugh, steer better than this. Actions, better… fucking hell.. fire. better then blame.
NB: Steering wheel in Part 2 sculpture. Action. turn. Weld into steering  column?

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