The intensity is milked in such a way that makes reading so unreal. I'm not a bad person. There's this mountain that can never be peaked. No matter the creative output or input, this is where we are at. There's a tiger in the mountain. She growls at me like a civilized slope unforgiving to my needs. Then the reasoning is blurred into a satanic message from the stars. Nebula's are forming as we speak of this meaningless force lining through the snow. Can I please just figure out how the rain falls with no reciprocation. I'm sick of being this insect solving the puzzle that will never be a real thing. It's not that the snow won't fall, but that when it does it will remind me of her. The hope in the weeds, it will become clear soon."Over the stars to top tiger mountains"
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