The Quivive of a Madcap

The amazement of making progress within the captivity of prospective has sour sliding of reasonless existence. Like talking in a box of profound feelings that alerts the man passing by with a blocked look on his face. Diving for desperate vanity that breaks the selfishness of the moment. It makes for a justifiable place in time, to complicate simplicity in the needs of annoyance and chaos. Betting on the day, where brindled personalities wave their hands to the sound of empty beats of madness.