Word of Wanted Intelligence Misbegotten.

Confusion spawned from that indecisive feeling in your stomach. Of course you feel the stirring, it is unmistakable. Positively precise; but, what is there now in my mind. Perfected prose, laid out before my eyes, strained by thought seen only to my subconscious. It rests there; subconsciously, I assure you with the words I have seen all too many times before.

Scenes of green pass over head, only to be missed or imagined as a fleeting fantasy faintly forgotten. missed? Only misconstrued by the weary of mind. Misbegotten mind; always mine.

The darkness deep cries out in tenderness and agonizingly dreadful despair. I don't know what to do. I really don't. Why ask when all it causes is a beat of echoes so rhythmically appealing that one can do anything but resist, yet the mind speaks now and doubts appear out of thing air. The wants overpower the needs, and the needs are nothing but nonsense.

Do I have morals?

In a sense of sensibility and redundant awareness. not. I don't know.

Seems to be the theme, the subconscious of I don't know and cries of desperate despair. I will live. Life goes on and so does my word of want.