On the outskirts of reality knowledge and reason bend inwardly on themselves. Looped into a linear expression of repetition, meaning and matter subject themselves to the subtle and explosive nature of fiction. Triangulations of trust trespass emotional immanence and intimate encounters of intertwined individuals predicate presupposed yet impractical permutations of palpable persons. Hedonism made for the heart makes for a heart that only hurts. Jouissance jails the spirit in the junction of desire, with a jury that neither sees nor cares, in a kangaroo court of callous conditioning, the self is subject to the entropy of attachment. Repression represents the real and recurring rewriting of unrealized desires and the instantaneous engineering of endless rationalizations to ascend an alien authority of auspicious actualities. People play for power and power picks the fortunate, ornate orgasms of an unknown origin lead you to question who you hold the torch for. stripping the sanctity of a surface appearance, solidarity seems to suppose the only security, however a hellish haunting of hurting bodies eviscerates the possibilities of quantifying the quiet gravity of emotional attachment. We are led nowhere all at once for the sole purpose to look at each other and discover our emptiness. Together we are alone but separated we do not exist.