Junk transcribed from the failed wit of the insufferably verbatim

Please.


Just let these people fade into monoliths of intricated measure.  Let the walls build themselves and hide our view of the endless space.  
I stand here freezing but I'm not cold.
I stand here wounded but I'm not hurt.
I stand here dying but not of thirst.
I lay here falling but I'm just still.

This is one for the halcyon, the days of unmeasured pace and windless flight.  This is one for the winding rays of twisting notes, burning, edging, thriving, driving into the walls of recollected envy.
Woe is the night!  Stinging with these eyes of twinkling black.  Gliding and sliding through flesh, bone, and muscle into the hearts of those willing to leave their paradigmal glory for the vast reaches of it's limitless cage.


These eyes drag on, resisted by the lumping echoes of empathetical torment.  Will these hearts yet burn?  Or was  the value cut short from before the first destination?  
I say, I said, I say, "why?". For with out, can there be?  And if there is, then what gives right, for the indignation of reason?

こにわしにます