Born into it...

One for the ages and the serendipitous calamity of self annulment. Faint whispers on the nape that bellows softly the ageless chatter in the firestorm of the momentary mind. A far crawl across landscapes of disintegration within the ferocious nihilism of selfish purity. Far be it for us to not truly grasp at straws of contemplation when the only real desire is hope. Take it from the being of rough flesh that exists to love ones own life and craft. Creation. Within the stillness of Vincents slumber, and dancing on the twinkle in Samantha's smiling eyes I am. Whole.