...

i fail,

at the feet of titans bludgeoning within

despised, 

my relative peace, fake and confused

then, she goes within hiccups of 

electro signals

my actions - neither exalted or doomed 

at the press of a

:)

- sold. 

. 

the reasoning fixated upon fantasia

somewhere the beats never grow old

lunacy is a residue of love

and so is

art.