MISTED THOUGHT

The epoch,

Eventuated uncontrollably.

I wonder, if it's hide and seek in deepest dark,

And i ain't sure if i should even believe in transcendence.

A transcendence like mist through walls.

See, its current,

Its floats and waves,

Sweep with blood in veins undistinguished 

Indeed malignantly growing within.

And yet felt controlled on its own.

But why do i feel so drunk on it?

You think it's normal.

 All those furious madness in windows,

With shelf dropping evenly.

And all those hunger of mouth line.