the ineffable mysteries of consciousness will never be discovered by covert means, but simply through brute force and reckless abandon. faith fruits in the fields of feeling, never individuated from the source of the mystery itself. a million zeroes strung up together will still never equate to something, and the false pretense that presents endless paradox to ponder will never portend a pregnant possibility. in the listless conniption script that envelopes licentious losers, we will never savor life’s lemons without a cancerous chemical concoction added to cover incredulity in concept. a beautiful day brings bright blessings still only to a favored few.