When

This is not a public appeal or a cry for tuition maybe,

Again not the closest to the surface of knowledge,

Maybe it better to stick to the nearest classification of humanoids.

Or are we so enrolled by the genetic mutation of what left of us?

Are we even breeding? Do we bleed after this? Is there a chance maybe?

Few equations can explain what is left of the sick toneless notions played by him,

He who exhilarates the E-man his wisdom and his last infusion before we seek refuge into the dawn,

Is it fatigue, maybe a well-played verse to say we have tried enough but no enough?

Can we buy souls back, how about human efforts? How many times can a human fall?

But again who’s falling? Is it us or just the song that plays out in your wisdom saying hi?

Are we hybrids? Do we awaken the last of what left of esters knowing the purification process is dull?

Is the unification of mind, body, and spirit one? Who’s encountering who?

Periodic tables only speak of the tale left by the last transcripts did you know?

Maybe that piece of gum you are chewing is a reproductive organ of bodies missing in mortgages,

Do we in script time, where does evolution collides? Do we purify water or lose it content through contemplating?

What proof do we have that seldom aliens do not exist or a vast of field mice have escaped the groom? Did Peter win an award for out naming vindictive turds?

Is I a letter or a symbol of counting left by the generic transferee found in the frown of a genome called oscillation when time failed to collapse sphere of existence. Where are we, where are they, are we postponed by the notion of less knowing more does exist?

Am I a cast out spell? Do we magically think magic does not exist? Who invented the motor neurons that carries chemical spheres that are more timeless perceptions? Or should we settle for what’s less when we are being haunted alive?