Downtime In a Secluded Corner of Dust

i pray for simple life i pray for the incision of my decision i pray that wellness and betterment will prevail for i am wholly unhealthy in a masquerade party thrown by myself i invite all who i know to come, but nobody responds as a result, i am left with a quiet indescribable in modern time the party is still going on the wilted lawn that is my life is still mowing on the mulch is tainted the stench is so offensive that i all but fully fainted maybe one day true pure full freedom will be everpresent on my side until then, i debate whether or not to concentrate on choosing to hyphenate my currently slanted stride