Projections are a sliver of disputed hesitation...weighted down...between a darkening edge...and a luminous seam. I believe in all that will happen next...even if the price of faith is transfixed amongst a certitude that is steep. There are incessant ways to make the dissonant ends meet...but the knot is never sanctioned to beckon or to tighten. Its burden merely slows the inevitable gain... reluctance duped by confusion...loosened by dribbling anger and precipitous grit. Turning sideways does not make me a pagan...I am humble, dashing and succinct. With limited exposure...there is no fear that comes from waiting...nor is there a compulsion to stare or to blush. The spotlight is reflexive with little aptitude to discern ...so its fingers trace the threads as they bend...who tunes the chord is inconsequential...as long as the ego and the riff can ascend.
