[i closed my eyes and started typing every word i thought immediately. this is what happened.]
in a rush of blood there is seldom a way to carry on the wholeness of what is to be.
let it all slowly leak out the bottom and see where it lands.
can you ever hope to be something that you can't see?
how often do we tarry on with the waywardness of man's helplessness?
perhaps something can be found in this.
maybe somewhere in the confusion there is a glimmer of hope.
on a light post at the edge of the city i can see where the end is.
help me get there.
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