The story about one man, the lost man. Swaying from ideologies and niche. Enjoying her company, yet wanting more. These are the things that handicaps are made of. I saw his embryo in the moon and it has come, just a year too late. The cycles are over like a sleek blade in the sharps. I’ve no need for simplicity or banal ubiquity. Others may need an interpreter, I prefer to face the game alone. Full of confusion, but it’s self defined truth. Without realization there is nothing, just pull the wool back over your eyes. Ignorance is bliss. So is innocence. Life forces us to lose one. We have to force ourselves to lose the other. Brainstem pitch fork. Sequence spreads, now malignant. Deeply imbedded branded neurotransmission. Eyes tell the tale, light years beyond. Fearing to be prey, it’s our final day.