Permission Aflame

Complacency is universal; it's well-versed in every spitting tongue.

The repetition is to be recited — spatting idealism. Sacrifice is your only asylum.

Alas, to split bindings and jaywalk normalcy, is to fly among sparrows of chaos and climb onto the backs of probability.

To divorce your aesthetic, one must play your pulse's winter-mint tune.

Sprinting toward the pursuit of pleasure with engines fuel forgot, jurisdiction cannot supersede you. Unceasingly abandon precedence and beseech nothing.

Touch infinity.