In the Presence of Nobody

great things forgotten sacrificed to the attic of time, inventions rusted into an obsolete... good deeds with time, dullen, turn mad on the canvas of the modern eye... brittle flowers in a cracked vase monet into dali life's burr turns upon itself...bleed...outcaste... when eating becomes meaningless exhibition we need for somebody to look us in the eye and say that wasn't so great-been done before... show me something with sparkling honesty give it to me from the heart of the heart just the sponge cake-no strawberries and cream not so great things are forgotten tossed into the attic to mingle with great things forgotten in the attic of time and truth.... {time always tells the truth} to spawn mediocrity in the presence of nobody where eating becomes spectacular again!