I yearn to inflict pain on you, but I can’t avoid imagining you as a pygmic nostalgia.
It must have taken a village to raise you into the fine man you’ve become.
To force your world into annihilation both surpasses my aptitude and opposes my morals.
Nothing happens only to consume finite time.
We either triumph or acquire new perceptions often mistaken for facts.
Who really knows which postulates are worthy of ultimate reality?
I tend to utilize superlatives and generalizations to indulge in my self-pity.
However mankind’s greatest achievement is diversity.
To each his own.

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