


a test.
to see if anyone was paying attention, to determine the fork in the road on which we travel on. we do what we want not to appeal the anonymous masses but to set up the building blocks to paradise.
what is my paradise? is it the stories i've typed or the icons i watch? do i exist to forever be a spectator or am i destined to breech the fourth wall, even if such conduct repremands me?
i get repremanded for dipping in the white so many times, and yet i repremand myself for when i dip in the black and nobody bats an eye.
or is this so called misfortune actually fortune? when i am noticed, wrought what i had unexpected, it cripples me to the very core, enough to paralyze this so called imagination of mine from budging an inch.
paradise is what this is. an undefinable, for better and for worse.
because who knows my paradise more then myself? the pleasures and the boundaries.
we are sunsetting it now.
so that we can wait for the moon.