I'm a time traveling salesmen selling lucid locks of dreaded knots tying together past present and future. Future freeway, the way I see, it's free. The illusion of time begets disharmonic synchronicity. Perpetually pedeling languid ideas around the same centered track, I see past what you lack. Surface facade showing winged stallions siphoning harmonic fuel from mechanical canticles. Animal majesty, tethers unbound seeking sky from ground, lost from found, and up from down. A mere reflection in a puddle of latency, ready to ripple through rugged and rough, volapuk hush. I've found time only to lose what I thought I'd find. Peace of mind, mended thought, 30-day-trial bot.Meeting people is easy, I just can't find any. An intravenous journey through a stream of calligraphic ink.
I've spent too much time buying into a false pretense of the afterfuture.