As we all reach into the pockets of indignity the faults of one's only thoughts fall through our doorstep of guilt, the very foundation of which is where it simultaneously all began and never began, the one from which all innermost desires, feelings, and only the words we know the best all come together from a blender upon which some and only some rest their souls for a brief period that in all honesty is not brief and lasts much longer than intended and happen to beset our own intentions with the false clouds that we can pretend are a hierarchy but really are completely obsolete and mean nothing to us, but let's not lie to ourselves because what does matter to us not much does anymore, not much at all I mean there is only so much we can remind ourselves to evade before the responsibility of our own fires are laid out in a nice space that we can all ogle and enjoy while keeping that lovely feeling of freedom, freedom, freedom.
The revolution will not be televised.