His cerebellum is his only enemy,
the inseams of his Timbos entrap pearls of
Bitter attainment,
Though he views these pearls indifferently,
Trying to ignore their glimmer in pursuit of ignorant simplicity
he cant help but have his stride impeded immediately,
when he falls he sees the visage of who he needed to be
reflected off the surface that gives breath to his entity,

As he's progressed no longer can words pick up his heaviness,
nor can they spark his readiness,
No he is beyond respirations shaped form
He loves his hate for its false depth and visible shallowness,
This in turn fuels inside his heart confusions invisible storm,

The olny time he feels the abscence of hostility ,
is when veiwed by the innocent
Those who see him for who he aspires to be,
Not what is manifest when he underachives tiredly,
Thinking thats all i need for someone to truly inspire me