At an illusion not conclusional...wherein
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Consciousness Alas


How is it that one can lose whole consciousness by way of ‘love’? How is it that one can regain it through cynicism? Those are our questions for the day. And still by writing this, it is not definite that you will receive the same mood that I so haughtily possess. Up proud and bustling with my sacred analyzation and affection too fond. I perform my pseudo cross.

Follow me my dears. . .

And these are the moments when I feel particularly sage, but I cannot utter ‘most’. The wise moments come in deliverance of something..always something, sometimes along with... Always individual and unpredictable. And I proudly deem it profound and inevitable.

But fortune for...love! Emotional attachment which I struggle to snip with my celestial scissors, ergonomic in their elegance. I don’t trust men.

 

 

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