My haloes fall for fortune prayed by those who house me despite every deciet.What would it be like to have both unconditional forgiveness and the infinte horror of sadistic cruelty? Is this decadentdrama? But both exist, and swing on a rope Ihave tied with memories of lucid flights and fantastic hellfire. Between the two sets issomething that records my thoughts and hopes.It gambles on the thought that it is worth it. Is 7000 years of recorded history enough to account for our habits and character as human beings? Its only a blink, a tangled dance introducing a dream.Its nice to be without a barrier, raw, and honest. The internal editor exhausted by meticulous designs of rage and love. Churning love, lust, envy, and deadly sins revived from death every time I open my eyes.