| Interests |
Insanity, the fabric of this existence for life is the Illusion of Ennui. As the epitome of an imagination run rampant, I perceive that only precocious dreams rise to entertain an otherwise monotonous verve.
A query, oh the desirous thought of question? All for naught have we pondered of whispering speech that answers answer not.
Almost gentle, the voice, the hidden side - the true tongue languidly ripostes: "Pray tell, if that words have no form upon frowning lips, then why must we speak when we cannot cast our longing lot?" |
1:34 AM Mar 12
