through the threads that my thoughts go
As many nights have come and gone with unexplainable dreams that I've had where I must truly repent, feeling my fingers curl up like I was suffering a concussion delivered by a linebacker through the middle gap of my offensive line.
I can't seem to make sense of any of it, but my heart is filled with guilt.
The other day I had imagined how beautiful it would be if I could see the invisible enemy I have been fighting up to this point. Previously, all my fired shells would hit the wildlife at the forest 800 meters away. I then wouldn't sleep because of the birds and deers that were made into pink mist because of it. But then I imagined if somehow, I would see sparks in a tender show of fireworks.
As for where my tongue would go, I'd paraphrase the writing on the back of the bathroom within the basic cicle building of the State University at the Western Princess:
I can't run away from the feeling that I have the moral obligation to commit industrial sabotage against data centers.
