There is a melon-cholera that comes straight out of displacement.. where do limitations drive us to the uncertainty of a floating sense, where recognition is apparent, of what changes can be made more easily than others? The drawback; when creative insight lacks to flourish, and there is no more 'used to,' but depict what isn't naturally condoned, and that uncomfortably peers through a longing and bony cheek, jaw, socket.. where the edges were once rounded now they're linear and rocky, and the beauty isn't behind, or in front, or present. The pathos ends up swelling into some offset pit that's the size of Texas. The pattern's are choking us from the inside out. The invented resources evolve for other meanings, and the exploitation becomes too complex for the initial root to be accurately deciphered. Contributions, nonetheless, aren't lost, but roll off due to subjective distraction and the oxygen needed becomes wasted. The dissolute is an oasis and all we can get out of is the new distraction from the path that we don't follow. Is the reward as justified as we need it to be? Insert Jurassic 5 to the Dave Matthews Band.
This is where I start to justify the grittiness of what keeps us alive, ignoring the confusion, and appeal to boiling water tasting much better after the action completes the notion.
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