Thoughts.

Blood coursing through these veins, never a compulsion to feel ,,, undetected, the blood it flows, circulating each artery to continue life, to continue the show ... The facade is built , upon all that snow , the melting, horrific, sanity left, swept by the undertow. Relinquish towards oblivion or struggle for more, each path resulting in sure death, will there be a realm there to explore?

So, I implore you -- chase your treasured virtue with stories absent of deplore.

Read this when you feel sound-minded, remove that which keeps you so blinded.