Difficult not to wonder why they think the way they do. Irritating is the sense of prying eyes ripping from behind. Such ignorance blamed on set expectations ingrown past infection. Follow the crowd! More mobs with pitchforks and torches, this time sitting silently with eyes bared like knives. Picking flesh from my backbone with cold certainty. Time is on my side, but in the moment forever spreads wings and flies. Stretched beyond an unknown horizon, indefinate arival awaiting.
