As I reinforce the sense of uncertainty, this practical solution for the hypothetical elucidation is becoming exaggerated and incomprehensible.
Mutual agreements surpass intellectual statements or empirical protocols. Thus, substantial existence is not only inadequate but also potentially destructive for the ulterior design. Repugnance once again enfolds pragmatic realities, and isolation comes at the least unsolicited occasion.
Condemned to wear this cloth of rotten flesh attached to my nauseating humanity is what perturbs me the most, although referential elation from specific interactions are allowed to inhabit remarkably amongst the fettle dead.
The familiar sentiments of self-destruction appear once again to stay for a lingering time. Well-known echoes of splintered voices keep howling mute phrases in my worn out skull celebrating the arrival of seclusion and misery. Now my old bewildered fiends start perpetrating those lucid manifestations with satirical acts of exuberant diabolical hoaxes.
I know my cavern is annulled yet again… Blank.
I know my cavern is nullified yet again... Naked.
I know my cavern is revoked yet again... Clear.
I know my cavern is unfilled yet again… Ineffective.
I know my cavern is unoccupied yet again… Useless.
I know my cavern is uninhabited yet again… Hollow.
I know my cavern is reserved yet again… I can’t avoid.
Wake me up when the lucid nightmares come.
Negra es la Vigilia.
