After the period of regret,

Approaches the season of thanksgiving,

Where the foolish acts committed under the presence of an egotistical mind,

Are fragments of a sad faded memory.

Moments such as these; the helpless minutes,

Where the downtrodden characters are figures of sympathy to our wretched souls.

Pain that cannot be cured by a mere indulgence in ecstasy,

Escaping the thrills of mundane delirium for a supernatural alternative animated in the dells of memory,

Contemplating red jellies colliding in tanned palms,

Or drowning in visions of viridescent slabs to embellish.

✾themeekarestillhere✾