The sanity of insanity

Honey never rots. And do smoke detectors use batteries or faith? The truth of spoken word is relieving- but what if nobody can hear? I remember your recipe as one of transparent insecurities and stale humor. I feel the complex of my mind; infinite and ancient, with dust clinging to the padlock of past times. Nefarious because it's only reminiscent of a past. A past that insists on reminding me that here I am, alone.