As the voice pours down on me, the weight beneath my feet begins to generate and ungulate.
The cold pouring in feel the wall created by radiant heat, like a force-field from natura non facit saltum.
Spin and spin feel the will, to which I can never kowtow of the prevailing delusions , my power is in my own ardor.
Inhibit your own twist to distribute haste in taste, don't waste you inate presidio on façades of ingrates.
Symmetry is depending on your insistence in resistance, converse you're cohesion in the impedimenta of transformation.
Ennui is not a choice but a reaction to aspirations, enchanted the egis that guards my heart.