Stale tastes rampant in my ways, I inspire to continue on without hitch or mire. I sojourn with frailty, and ponder the deeper truth of energy astray, which tastes bitterly of over-chewed tongues. I wonder then: did my internal workings beguile me with false promises, or does it adversely imbue me with continued effort, motivation – paired in strife? This perplexing quandary often reminds me of pale faded wallpapers, shrill peeling in crisping death. But to want is to buy woe by the bunches. To dive into the muck without regard for rocky disturbances. Leaving the trails behind, I take new land as potent reminders of future’s uncertain amusements. Wild stars falling in a twisting tale of blurred night visions. Guide me north, towards the promise of deep possibility.
Take a ride with the speed of events. I continue to hope for the whim of change. Be well traveler.