Dear Youth...

Inaudible algorithm,

     Cunning birth false splendid dream the mirror within projects as a mere infant thorn yet un-tragically-poisoned seed of a future neglected of... Woe unto the bones of the hopeless possession architects of hope meant for the rest of the those: Surviving death... Amidst the faith of those whose greed has woven generations to their very bones.

In lieu of our participation in,
Watching the patriarchs weave!