• Talking without thought and these thoughts kept from talking. Locked behind the bars of the gate that; I now look out these rents of these metals pillars. Through these eyes, outside world - taken from grace; this is breaking into decadence.
    Should there be grandeur in such ignorance. Is there to be anything kept; but there is what is had. Or what is had that is forgotten or not even foreknown or captured.
    What chains that break - that allow other than; But to be the ladder of this disgust to just turn the cheek and look back from the gates; peeking back from the rents. To just find comfort, be back, in describe, to acre in that chimney chute, lit a flame, warm it is, but do you even know that it burns the skin.

    Break what is naught, to consume that in which is hidden in the divide. But at that gate, through your eyes, you peer, again naught. Humanity seeks, but you do not peek, not even a bit. You turn, shoulder out, and back in. And to that wind that comes through those rents between the bars, of that gate; take what you like, feel the cold. The cold. The cold. That is ignorance at your back, but of course, you cannot see, for your back is to the cold.

    Keep in then, ferry that flame, to keep warm and less wholesome, benign to the ideals that are set to the acceptation of education. Be back, rust lining your spine, pressed to the gate, your eyes farrow of anything, this is your contempt on humanity.