En vault. Prosper-termed, spoken like an innocent plain. Passive and practiced in all goes the one in the same. Because to me, and the mirrored beneath, it's the violence to see and the miles to receive. It's all "and"s and "so"s, picking at scabs and gaping whole. The eyelids awake duress like made reminding of trailing laughter in the league of the least. It's all "and"s and "so"s, picking at scabs on every throat by every fray. Stray of the tongue speak the violent ones.