Creation. The vile distance to attributes in an image of clouds. The vision doors. Simplified relentless clowns swinging to adore. To see the faces. Colours reasonably sane. The inane adequacy of timeless evolution. To picture eternity.

The morality of computer graphics. What’s on display. I frown upon the emptiness of such. Where did I begin? Rely on distance.

The public scream of conciousness. To rationalize my demons. The scarce yet fathomable incursion of consequence. To convey sin.

To appologize every token of imagination. The fundamental journey begins. To emancipate darkness.