Potency

sweet nothings permeate some immediate fancy. such cruelty found in the cycle of men. hard held inadequacies sublime in all but thought and intent, how could we do this to ourselves. yet again, unlearned in experience- this self replicating cataclysmic convention. grievous undertakings solidified in naught and disdain, frozen aptitude- the resolute never final. tendencies absolved through any means of incapacitation within moments reach- fleeting fancy brought on by languid sound. what optimism at its best can never compare.