Unfinished

These plains are unfamiliar but still they roll.
It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve become a stranger to landscape.
It’s almost disenchanting. Almost, but not quite.
Not quite only because when I feel like a mechanism I know it’s only a product of my own mind.
To converse: to feel human. To feel more alive than you could ever make me.
It should get easier now that we’re older, but it doesn’t.
You have not reached my age or clout.
That in itself is troubling, but not enough to make things stir.
You have not reached me.
It should get easier now that we’re older but it doesn’t.
More RF transmissions stealing our vision.
Our pets have been spayed and neutered although our own crimes are going unpunished.
However.
Would you even lend a helping hand?
Where do your laurels rest? By the wayside?
Throw all caution and safety there.
Do something unexpected.
I’m aware of the nutrients that have been lost in battle
And when I find them I put them underneath of my pillow.
Maybe he will come down and regret with us.
Oh, Good Evening to you, Governor
And Good Evening to you too, Sir.
How else shall you break us down?
Good Evening to you too, Sir.
Good Evening, Governor.
What taxes have you planned for tomorrow?
How else are you going to rob my father?
And you, Ma’am… Good Evening.
How innocent do you plan on being perceived?

(There was supposed to be more in between here.)

I have shattered the concave and everything was left.
I extracted your essence that enables my existence.
Inhale, exhale your reflection.

Willam Wallace - The Heart, Blood, and Care Taker of the GMK