The air is sawed off, wishy and doing better. We were dangerous, once.
Smooth rhetoric is purely blur. It’s too late to make it sparse. Now we’re appalled. Even our restraint is wishy for its own sake.
We could see from a solid distance, your rakish notes to yourself, you mixed mediums .. no shit. None of mine.

As I understand it the exact second you insert the first-person, rotary forces of moral density will drill several meters down underground, a strafed, ethical spectacle falling into proverbial and natural coherence like mumps, something you never saw and you never will, you gestalt freak.