I might not know how to begin or how anything ends, but there is something in my mind that beckons to be recognized. Something I have always known, yet do not yet know. I have shook hands with the consciousness that will drive even the most collected of us to bite the ripened succulent fruit of insanity. Dreams deceive such a delicate realness and beads of sweat stamp a puny defeat so with the most insulting and graceful drip to demise.