America, crippled old thing. I am to find out if you still have any vibrancy about you. I am to delve into the mess of frantic and unrealized ambivalence. To die? to live? It makes no difference what you choose to call the enigma, what matters is that it’s happening, and it’s gonna happen hard. I take the dive to see if direction matters, to see if dreams are held subject to the laws of masked map makers. Should I fail in my resolve I will be none the worse for it, for the knowledge of the matter alone is fruit enough to sustain a human life in its entirety. I praise the name of sweet fate and the indulgent tongue of inspired intellect. I am drawn to the notion that wherever fate should lead it does so beyond stipulations and is therefore sweeter than any pump or prosthetic I might hope to gain on the (live)stock-market. It is in my opinion that to suffer the worst inhumanities in the spirit of humanity is a far better thing than to thrive amongst a society of brutes; that this principle is both my council and disclaimer to the enigma of eternity.  In the spirit of inspired intellect does my soul go forth, to inquire as to where the truth has been made incarnate.