I keep searching for a script to put a name on it for me to depict and you to finally get

when you walk into a room, your skin wraps around me like a washing machine, and I cannot stand it

I'm stuck in an effort to conclude that I will not be understood, while you stand beside me, knowing you never will be.

our pen slits through the dark fabric of space skeletal forms of the night, we soar, hidden from sight

untangling years of uncertainty with sound can this be done?

they lied nobody was coming

i recognize your walk from a thousand years past

I am not a thing, I preach nothing don't think I'm self-debasing, only assuring

you, have your certifications and a world of acceptance take it