blather
fragile_state
Death of a Rose This saw has cut my height in a transparent agreement.
Delivered from the high, locked in a fragile state.
Swinging the well wishes beyond your grasp, a discord in revolving pursuit.

Purpose as a weapon, screaming the calibration acts at my perceived enemies.

Is it a past attempt at a known failing?

Such exciting aural degredations.
Too many endeavours in hiding a musically filled breakdown.

Still driving the spent wages of another ordered blame.
Making the matters of a preflight attempt, speak wisely and without thought.

This is just another intricate inward folding.
050617