Never knew what will happen to these words of wisdom, a five minutes outpouring wound on this sanitary napkin paper. On this backpage- I am confused obverse or reverse- I desire to gush out the turbulence in a loud and leviathan amount. But it is impossible to overcome the aspects of mortality and give form to the sap of thoughtful existence. I love to think of erasing myself from this parchment and make use of prophylactics-the arch disgracer of william empson- to cut out the nuisance of useless progeny . It only replaces I. It swallows. It creates. It unearths. It permeates. It hollows the dome of restless encounter and secretes a fatal nectar. An elixir of death! A liquid hope, a transient assurance, a cavalier charisma. It is Brahma, or brahman and one, the I ,we surrender to it.