lost like an adjective dropped from the outh of a rich passer by discrbing the blandness of the street beneth the spit shining off the reflected sun evaporating. the now of the minus is subtracting across the skies the only thing we can breath to survive. here is the what and why of the now instead of the begining of the end of this confrontation. usuless is the way it finds itself to page, now is nothing more than the sylables droping from lips. when the wind is left here standing green like so many trees leaves that have fallen the end is so transdueced inot hte maening of the abnormalality of the following punctuated arguemetns against the regret of knowing why the end came in such a fashion , all high heels and make up maded up like the strangers will just leave her here if she should fall too the floor and can no longer stand to be a part of this apart, now like dreams heavenly and distraught like minor games rebounding form missed attempts and failed chances tobegin what is left is only to find the means to origaniting this effect and all the causes there of. now so seems so incompletec and complicated like the meaning of the words you can not utter into coherence, is so solemly disguised as the end of the vision of sight hiding just beyond your presciption limitng your perception of moralities realities like the snow globe figures so precausiouly carelessly shoken but never changing as the world spins its scene another time, reloving around the center of trite conversations about time until now is the longest question that is left to find what is not meant to be proclaimed until staying with what is left is not an option. engaing the brian......