Negative wonderment, energetic disposal.

Feelings of exile wrapped up tight in supercelestial swaths of telepathy? My convictions have trapped me here, but if I was smart I'd grab my aura and run softly out the door.

Some anthropomorphic fishes were designed to bite. Snap. Entice. Glare. I'm allergic to brine when it's drowning my lungs, and malcontent makes me sneeze horrendously.

What am I to gain from straining my windy eyes and their liquid hearts? Logically, very little. Possibly, I'm a crimson streaked clarity-ridden lightning bolt quite unaware of it's fatidic purpose. Quite unaware of it's dazzling laser after-etching.

The stockpiled face floating around in my head should placate me until there's a smile waiting for me in the tide pools. I stare at my saddened reflection until the water is clear green enough to submerge myself. Searching.

I'm afraid; mentally unwelcome. There's nothing for me to say, perceptions have been altered here and I can't manage to adapt while I'm staring down the barrels of percieved anger.

I must escape, but I've got purposes with other plans.

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an: This is what gets written when you're stuck somewhere that you know you should have avoided.