
most times I feel weight in Lines assuredly the curves have become Blind action to action day to day time to time taken inside the cold cube to find locally sourced minds that open to Play means to Ends that split and splay the truth of Matter is gathered in Waves most Hosts in Fact are intact in Clay and here we go and hear me Out so the Seams and stitch the Sounds the filtered crowds are splintered thru towns restrictions are inflictions to Personal Power on top of the World Beneath the Beast gathering Souls for the Final Feast is a shattered mirror of magical myst devilishly reveling in Binary Bliss pointed. Mirror. Peripheral to this Spirit of Fear Charleen Johnston 8-5-20 First word in each line, came from my friend Johnny Frechette in a facebook post