These are the lives that change the times, I'm sure that's how it goes or something. It could really be a better place if they'd quit surfacing for righteous indignation, the tripped triggered crowd, who's cups can't hold water to runneth over, and poetic gasps for attention ignore the purpose of events, the cause of life, and the index of miseration and experience to climb on others sinking with screams that wouldn't fill the sails, to break the cycle, to lace the cipher, to climb the walls of judgement like barriers and border towns, where the virtues of vanity were not buried and shamed by shamers and blamed by blamers, when honesty empowered by truth is their wealth kept among them with warriors and writers and various fires to turn their hard-earned fortune into the buried treasures now troves of weapons and leathers in case even the defense of dying nations and the subterfuge-invasion without invitation denies them even that, like black cats and ladders we bring you black masks and adders where tenets and tradition in tatters makes the ink never dry wherewithal the endless eye watches them sell their sincerity and swell their prosperity of brag and humble, which by the time you read this the words will have changed and their goals rearranged like pestilence pained to ceremony and objection for the tired arguments find reinvigorated resurrection without the fear of battle dinning or to know which side is winning while the burdened retreat to the stories of Celeste in wretched wreaking wroth wrought wary warning wardens of the sunless setting drum, where the braying breaking bloodshed bleats better bearing of the boisterous sum, and wisdom comes like raindrops of the circumscribing flood.
Positive consumption, enlightened exertion, optimistic world, and big mood.
"We are always in a hurry to be happy...; for when we have suffered a long time, we have great difficulty in believing in good fortune." Alexandre Dumas