I cannot assert more >forewardly<...(how I am afraid of my head)

...as if unfamiliar with "certain"

It is distant to me why I insist on this; it is a night like this where disappointment and vacancy preside.

This is the cycle that took me out into the open night. I hear a loud communion in the distance; I am alone too often.

Favor notes treaty ignition; fervour over blood partition; cables that lead to any device apart from reception specified. This is so; and connections will splinter in a future toned "cryptically causeway"; caustically curtained as if unfamiliar with "certain". As such nature craves distant dissonance; dysphorically dejected and  actively punishing me for the transgressions of another (inadvertently ushering in an era of cold resentment beneath efforts to maintain a slipping ocular shimmering; trust becomes a concept that I bitterly covet.) Spiralling into a detuned, twisted descent; unrelenting rays of judgement strip us bare. Fanaticism; I cannot assert more forewardly how I am afraid of my head. "Conclusive" images strobe to the forms denoting "doomsday" judgements;  how frightened I am to live unconsciously predicting and preemptively simulating the reactions to the concepts that most centrally cripple me in any arrangement written to push my limits in panic and resilience; shuttling from hitting the ceiling to rolling gravel; this, I live too often.

Forcing these cycles inadvertently to bleed into reality; I am afraid too often.