like trapped prisoners, we tie the to our word
the are sealed into what we do.
our works often passed for judgement.
at some point in time one such prisoner escaped the canvas he was painted on
consumes and at the same time captivates its audience.
a gentle curtsy , before the ballet.
from arial fonts it leaps our a sluggish attitude that almost definitely bores the audience.
a feeling of nonchalence , of going through the motion.of going with the flow.
trapped deeped and sewn tightly in reinforced, reitterated words that which we speak , that which we boast.
in malicious cheers and celebrations, these prisoners release themselves.
just when the ethanol reaches the guards of our lips ,poisoning the cerebral cortex.
these prisoners run amok, ruining everything its master created.
these prisoners.
are our emotions.
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