I’ve killed the inner essence to write, the gift or the tool seems paralyzed, nothing from life could recesutate the very sentiment that lingers else where. My soul talks with no sound, it hears but can not translate. Yes it really goes to show you that sorrow is the developing cause of anger. It mutates into things of the unknown, its feeding tendencies prey on your beliefs your creed , your self , the depth of me cannot explain. It is like emptiness , like the starve drawn out , to where the burn feels normal, to where hunger is placed along side the other things that have lost light that have burned into something else. You see, people believe that when the fire blows out that it cannot be seen, and felt or smelt, but I will tell you that smoke pollutes the world of something you can never change or fix, it will contaminate when the burn is not clean.