The inscription reads you’re my business. This means the writing is clean, the continuity architecturally intact, mirrored in jumps for meantimes. 
 
But calming down, there’s a dual rule of justice gone aground with a moral philosophy we won’t erase, a jittery appliance in the occipital lobe, active within the ‘human grain’ when touch management was unleashed.     
 
I’m just commenting. Your forehead (pre-perpetuity) is boarded up still    
 
the inscription reads you’re my business.