a simplistic syllable esoterically bounded for my precious organs, today. just one syllable, standing alone, defenseless though it may have seemed, was soon to be armoured and protected with everything my fortress withheld, these lucky years.
my desire pushes that word deep in the tissue, moving amongst the flesh of your memory, dictating back to you it's definition, with full comprehension of it's social understanding. for ambiguity evades the hope i realise so coldly, is merely illusion.
it kills and strikes and bares no mercy for any who should happen apon it.

ambiguity.
designed solely to make us crash and burn in hopes and dreams it feeds to us by two faced scum bag words. it twists and turns un naturally amongst our sentences, bending back and cutting the heels of truth, so with our strategic sentences, hope can no longer walk, nor crawl to safety, for cause of your evil, evil ambiguity.
and to be the most honest of honest,
social understandings of ambivalence rely so heavily on inflection that i fear your monotony is chasing me after geese that i shouldn't expect to find.

but should i find that goose, please could i find it
could i please find that beautiful goose with it's silky wings refracting beams of light that no numeric system could limit, with it's beak absolutely dripping with moisture from the cool, cool air up in the sky with three clouds placed carelessly in there, creating the illusion that the sun is being funneled back down on to that goose, just for me.

oh please,
please let there be a goose