Maybe we should all shut up.

Maybe. Maybe its a crystal ship. Maybe its a typhoon with all the makings of a hermetic peace that is promised by those you can't trust. Maybe its a doubt that is founded, maybe its a genetic defect that enslaves one to the mercy of a transient belief that it is one's birthright to cater to such a thing. The times where you squirm at the thought of having to suck it up one more time, or even worse, not. It could be the best time or the most opportune time to graft that insecurity onto a solid groundless mass that will leave you on the precipice of nothing, and maybe that's the best part. To swim in that deep, black question may be the best thing this life affords you, but the choice of that can be hellacious within itself. Maybe that crystal ship is chock full of fuck hope and that's the good news. Lets watch writhing pain dock and hope to shit not to hope.