Hybrid Utterances.

Getting rid of much toxicity is bringing me back to a balanced bliss I’ve
worked so hard to let others take away. 
I feel the tinge of the pull where
strings once held, it’s now nothing but a memory of anticipated sensations. 
Inward
violence can create a chaotic chasm for one to fill. 
It’s fulfilling reconstructing and speaking to
parts of me I’ve never heard. 
This is no nostalgic revival back
to nature. 
Excuses
don’t distract. 
We are all instrumental. 
This is a hold up. Drop the
distractions, reach for the sky and no one gets hurt. 
Always immersed and entrenched
by the state of things to come. 
Heuristically abstracted rational objections,
make a stand or two to go, for who needs just a slice of life if all that’s
left are mere crumbs of cake from the time it took someone else to bake. 
What if you could feel the
motion of things to come? Like beats of a drum, of the war never undone. 
How
much you make is how much you cost. Who you gonna pay to be the boss? 
Possessed
by time while wielding words into a machine.
To appreciate refinement
of skill and knowledge occasionally takes much time for the quivers of queries
to make point. 
Stop making existence non-existent for us all. 
Mend
the layers of now to find, thrive, and stand in our one truth. 
And the truth is,
if we are so quick to cue doom, that’s not living, but now all I want is
cake.

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