cancel opinion mist and mirror alibi's cos we go on living with or without disguise but breaking out along a weaver's web you get to shedding the wounded wedding to evolving dread. it's illusion. it's threaded thin but you joined them figuring the solution's without real evolution and your paramour's will pour libation in admiration, cemented to wisdom within with a cheshire grin when they think you're thinking of them. and you intend transcendence? you crave tidal waves and praise dependence to consent cos the absence is intense when the curtains are closed when curled into a corner when imperfections war futility and misery aren't mysteries to explore.
