The eclectic mental calisthenics came off as unintentional humor in a paranormal cause.
Twisted into synaptic exhibitionism, they turned a final corner and then went 'round the bend.

Mourning became repetitive. An attempt to rewind it all back again after a year
of purposeful pragmatism had no visible results. I tumbled through an inner space, end over end.

Enterprising revolutionaries ganged up on the beach. Loaded with misery and somnambulism,
each only practiced what each believed would fill the void. In the end it made no difference.

In blurred and broken lines of selective recall, fantastic castles line a subterranean wall
and murmured words overlap and fuse into a synchrony, a seamless estate forgetting all.