Apocryphobics

I'd never thought i'd witness someone so self-virtuous that i would feel so sick. like needles treading down my throat in a march of soldiers i can feel this disgorge approaching, like a storm. self-desensitized by your own involvement in this world has loomed you into belligerence.

Your beatified expedition's pervervid color has been repudiated within this absurd ego that you have conducted in your dogmatic vestige.

In the contingency of your self-perseverence, you aim for absolution. But it's something you'll never achieve as you reach for it above the surface and you find it's something that will soon suffocate you, giving you a yearning that will leave you in isolation.

As much as you'd like to, you can't befriend this self-fullfilllment when it's only promoting such supremacy rather than the result of self-innocence.

Was the anticipation given up in the discernment that you could be wrong and that your fellow doctrine may have been an aspersion to draw you away from that sublimity.

What compromises the knowledge of death in singular harmony?

Have you at all been pragmatic in the permission of this amity or have you still been mitigating through superior beliefs.

Your self-virtuosity doesn't lead to any superbness, rather than it does to mediocrity.

I know how this works. I've grown well acquainted to this dormancy and how it interacts with those around me. This is all credited to my eye of understanding and seeing through it all.

The source of my sufferage i have kept bare for quite a while, like a shadow and like an anchor it will drive me down in the pits of ignorance that have been the attributes of my own concern. 

like a mirror it shows me faults where i had once deceited myself and my conception of what had once been laid out before me.

i take the lesson willingly and treasure it until i am finish with it all. then, like a gift, i share it with those around me.

letting them know, your exclusive singularity consists  but only in the singularity of consciousness.