Polychromatics.

What? What now. What am I supposed to utter? Pardon me, utterance is the term reserved for spoken discourse whereas I present here am... u know. Unraveled stuff still hauntin my inner side. Yup, that's eet, since the bright dawn onwards up 'til now... Charges on the worst part are: much as I long to the frame, the silhouette, I do BEAR in mind, it's only its figment which I can't do much about to repress... sadly. It's a hybryd, a polymorph of the many creations, or creatures and features, if you prefer, originating from both my imagination, the unconscious and the real world [which, to me, makes the picture even more miserable [en miserabl]]. What do you do to supress such bullshit history from actually happening? Any morsels of precious advice? Any more thoughts as for the moment so I'd better quit 'fore I generate and publish some bullshit ethymology kinda stuff. Just one more thing: it eventually becomes the game I always wanted to play with a peer, the game I always was setting the rules for as well as was the only proprietor of victory. Is it not the time to descend and make some space for the conquerer, to renounce for the insuperable? Nevah... Shall I always defy. Of no avail are any advances on my part made. Again, I had rather pro-mah-self quench my thirst for some art production with an edgy architect starring.

Aye, YOU KIDZ! all that party vulture of yourz! All the connections you have generated, all the drugz you have taken, tried and mistaken for what real fun is. All that dilated pupils of yourz! All the fake relations, that you have constructed. And beholding what you put in front of my non-dilated eyes is, I can tell who would not fit in there for sure; certain entities. All those don't-talk-to-me constructively and as-plainly-as-possible guys who ain't even able to cope a decent convo, let alone a decent fcuk. No class. No grandeur. No nothing. Merely drug induced everything. Those who don't trip look shtooped. Local ceebees, heebee jeebeez. What more can I contribute to this than join the party or conclude that this is the youth culture as we experience it, generate and deliver it on demand as we want it. Oh, n by the wayah, can ye[r] spot the peddlerz?...