Diatribe From An Empty Room

The mind was old before it came upon you, it took your shoes made you walk upside down in an inverse eye. Pray tell, is all well? Now expostulate your lip tripe and see if any much broken soul cares. Keep your trapdoor mind, your garmented flapping pockets so full of the disavowed, the cancelled out widow weeds of fake sorrow. Be not evermore, be not even now. As always there is much to be taken back.