Feigning ignorance becomes.

And I mean literally.

Being mean is revoltingly beautiful.

The Beautiful rejoices in sights that leaves no one wanting.

Shadows want shredded leaves. Oh yes they do.

Doing is being, seeing belies feeling.

And the lie hidden in believe has a most peculiar tang.

Pay the penultimate price; make your choice is still feigning ignorance.

No victory parades for meaning.

There are only futile revolutions.

That revel in sights that are so dear one cannot let them go.

When the stringent lights go on, and believe in me; they will.

Dreaming is seeing the best in you.