Wagon's pulling us.
 Wagon's dragging us. 
 Wagon's too us is a man's lost ambition. 
 There is no pain greater than another... Just the duration. The ambition of humans washed away the coat of paint; Rust forms on Libido Wagon.
 Crusted eyes... Chapped skin... 
 At the dawn of our arrival; The Wagon passenged us all. 
 Sunshine... Rain... Sleet... 
 We braise in everything we'll ever meet... 
 Us all. 
 ...Wagon pulled... Wagon turned over... 
 Carriages pulling us.
 Carriage dragged me, her, him... Us All.
 "Dawn of restoration" 
 She tells me its okay to not cry anymore.They hold every which situation
 It becomes adaptable, its impressive.. 
 Morbid darkness contained: Enclosure.
 Rapid images beneath the cricket noise,
 Contained furry.. 
 Categorical Timed Memories, stretched from corner to another...
 Timbre catologicaly scatological expansion.
 Life... " the ground cloud" ground clouds for all of us? Blurred mist, Mixed within darkness. Blurred mist.
 I wake to shaded pixels.
 Today no more.
 She showed me a gift, I just received.
 Planned words, shattered limbs; It was non more. The emotion that I could recursively recurred, to the Ecuador improvisation in my being. Always and Forever stood.
 My mind is now happy; Full of joy-full thoughts... My mind is now spliced. 
 My heart is now happy; Full of enhanced jams... My heart is now validated
 Somewhere in deep, clattering hope... clings to motive. Earth opened my eyes, shuts my ears; Aloud faith too. 
 Somewhere out there is my pre-determined setting in my story... It longs for my knowledge I've gained in the touchy area of critical thinking. 
 Thus I wake, longing for this meeting. 
 Upon arrival; I'll feel a pre-determined caution I never felt. Streak in my bones... Face of gloom.
 Thus I lay, longing for this awning.
 Upon arrival; I'll search my lucid shell. Blur in my face... "Face?" 
 I cut the branches
 I wiggled my way through; avoiding as many cuts and stitches as I could. 
 I made it through the jungle, what's in-front of me... I don't know.
 My eyes will adjust... My being will adjust. Transcendent realm I lined into... Illusion's punting me higher. Levitation is the only choice I choose. I'll let her pull me into this realm, such as a catfish in-linked to the fishing reel. We swim.. Others fish. I choose to sufficiently plummet in her kitchen.
 -Austin Taylor Norris 


Followers of Wim Snykers