My very self is distilled in this murky, petty fall. I don't answer to disregard, I don't recognize indifference. I act back at my best. I used to live at the surface of my existence, now I dwell in the depths. I am not far from indulging in all of my self righteous impulses, as they come all too frequently. I am only a membrane from breaking all that I have left. They can eat around a tart, of lemon sort, but of the center, dissuaded. For the city gate only guards the heart of the city, and all amongst it lie prone to society. Is it to be advertised thus? A waning front, oust it fades. Does he care not of sobriety? Of it, the faults of a deteriorating frailty... I must leave myself, abased in constant continuum. To be the best at something you were supposed to be, or to be the worst at something no one wanted you to be?... To raise oneself, you must not let others predict you, or they will be standing on your side of the scale. Knowledge is too absolute. Just the way they have you believe. I feast on my thoughts, my words.. The things I have only exist in my imagination as I write my soul on this screen.