It is Thought

It is thought my semantic skills not adequate to comprehend shadings of meaning extrapolation understanding (false comprehension analysis experienced of flashback paradigm flourescent phosphorous noxious gas poisonous fog location.) All cynical understandings crumbling easy by facile skilled hand extending of my own through penciled intention traced of the patterns of my magnetic connect grid beauteous perfection symmetry. Lack of continuity impossible in spiderweb Universe Finnyland where gamemaster capabilities all gravitating my way refusing to forget my vivid youthful past. But still this reluctant snarky critic who screams “It is nothing” and throws its wildly flashing eyes about blinking sweat droplets focused on reason while my nonlinear chaos-brain extrapolates far beyond my sight uproariously expansive for my secret self to goad these sad small hypocrites with their own holographic self-doubts.