The suede shifts from a time of condescension towards completion. Falsified hatred covering from above rots such positive images. Grasping the effects lighting up soulful reflections of actuality. Within the confines the swathing of light following ignorance.
In this downpour of white ash and impossible delight, knowing the anguish that must follow in a close distance. Lost through the overgrown backwoods of trepidation. Salvaging of my essence from a mysterious face of aspiration.
—Benjamin Mollenhour
