Occasionally doorways form from a mumbled laughing pattern of plastic imaginiation. Clutched against a narrow point, circling the measurment. A gleam of gradual discussion, an ordinary feeling withdrew the forbidden topic. Trying to persuade the loathing to float to the back of my mind, as i peer into a lunatic orchestra of the minds darkness. Blind silence naturaly flows red. Thought of damp agony becoming these charred notes of dazed hands. Right angles of memory hold the constriction of dimension. Pressed fingers infect another counter part, until the cycle beings again. Reflecting backwards is not the intention. The distant echos of accumulating laughter reminds the axis of existence, that we are not finished.