- as animals we fight; wether it be the "Good Fight" or the facetious one when we strike for blood... the morning gives hint of the coiled spine and forked tongue polishing the fangs disguised as the "rabbit punch" that broke through - found its mark, the sequence of buttons pushed in a final jab... Composure stricken with faults breaks.
the "Union" is a tug of warring hinges each a separate dimension of of daggers cloaked in fingers poking at the good eye behind perception... a chain of traps linked to the bottom of the shallowest of fools - fully fledged in foolish tact, a dizzying slight of height - hands are black from pushing back...
liking "IT" for what it's for, for what it is and nothing more... the "Audience" is a cool way to decorate the tiniest of rooms - so why the target practice? reality is the fiction that ensues after we really drag it over the hot coals of each others suffering - are we dueling or quarreling?
"I ran into a strangeness, apparently it knew me - by the numbers quoted anger from the drama in its movie. I explained that I'm no actor for directing better suits me and dissolved in misdirection on a wild whim raveled loosely"
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