molded alcove. Something had to have been compromised in order for
the adjustment to have taken place. But in a cramped adaptation of another’s dark and plastic carnival…art form and creativity are barren and even the pithiest of hoopla is rewarded with maddening thought and forced repetition. How does anyone derive from that? Does it frighten you that everywhere I have been is unnavigable? It should…for the frontier cannot exist out in the open…if it does, then truly…the reformation has passed you by…. 10 years to be exact. Touch my paw and you will have been there the entire time… right beside me. Permit your choice to draw blood… and pledge the offspring…in regret and glory…I will never let you find me again.