Flaws of unconditionality
Opaque seems the current through which the dust flies. It's a complex, the redundancy of the events with which one is subjected in their life. The repetitive nature itself molds a sculpture which is scarred by the environmental influence, the imposition which carves the final product of a being. It's astounding though how one seems to remain unaware when those events are experienced first hand but when that same entity bears witness as a third person, that they realise the universe isn't driven by spontaneity. Everytime the intellect taps in this spiraling realization, it is consequently sucked into an entrapment. The scars are yet again stretched further than the capacity of the sutured can take. It is like a short powerful burst of a non-harmonic rage, the over strained nerve juicing off of its emptiness though overwhelmingly strong or rather hubristic enough to withstand. In this engulfing sphere of chaos, rotting the intellect, pushing it toward a new height of i