Somewhere in-between the world of reality and the stagnant prisms called 'reality', nothing seemed truly defined within stripped walled-in wells. And yet, there lies the epitome of technology- no, the prelude of beveled doodles- leaving passerby railways to home and back.
However, rows of one-armed chairs line the pre-manufactured puppets, how come?
Indented, punctuated, semi-coloned, and any other distilled phrase ending with -ed and/or -ing...
"How plausible!" my stifled mind screamed.
Despite blinded contacts left nothing 'to be continued', tidings of imagery vs impressionalism vs metaphoric society, hung briefly inside coerced demeanors.....
(No, this wasn't the speeches of any type of unglorified Bible)
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