out of mountains, colors, shapes sizes, the implicit wave length pushes and pulls, to repudiate the anhedonic, comply with sorrow, take the measure, fall behind, hope for nothing, see everything.

PERCEPTION IS IMPLICIT

Implication? A farce. 

driving to woods, taking advantage, revealing nothing. I am perception under a rock, shot out from my original intent and thrust towards the creator. Finding stars, credence of my discontent, the machine is odious. 

The question, who are you? Who am I? Am I a feat of engineering, a driven tool, my mother’s object? Or have I perceived little from the mind of man, facing west and calling out to the object of my desire. Freedom calls for a limit, to hope for little and create greatness by solicitously grasping for straws.

Hole in wall, mind crater, good news for good news.